


Family Day

by KagSesshlove



Series: Grade School [13]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Gen, all dick wants is for the family to bond, all of them are dramatic but they think they're not, also why are they so horrible, but can we talk about how bad an idea it is for all of them to be in public together, but dick actually got what he wanted for once, but not to anyone else, but she gets compensated, eggs were harmed however, he's creepy, in the end it really was a good day for the waynes, no hula hoops were harmed in the making of this fic, no one likes public bruce, nobody likes the davidsons, not for anyone else mind you, oh well, poor mr carmichael, poor ms andrews, so says dick, so win for her, there are games and food and activities and fun, this is important to him, you see the problem here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:29:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagSesshlove/pseuds/KagSesshlove
Summary: Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like experience Family Day.





	1. The Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Not even Lilo and Stitch. 
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world. 
> 
> Note: This is the last installment of Grade School. It’ll be told in five parts.  
> I’ve really enjoyed writing these stories, and it’ll be hard to let this go, but this is how I planned to end it from the moment I started the series.   
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading Grade School as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Bruce could feel his stress levels spike when Dick burst into his office, grinning excessively.

( _Oh, no.)_

“What?” Bruce demanded, already exasperated.

He would have just preempted whatever Dick was planning to say with a “no”, but he’d come to realize that that method didn’t actually work.

With any of his children, come to think of it.

Dick sidled up to his desk, plopping down in the chair. “So.”

Bruce braced himself.

“Did you get my email?”

There had been 12 exclamation marks in the subject bar. Bruce had deleted it immediately.

“No,” he lied.

Dick looked skeptical, but didn’t comment. “Well then, that just means this will be an all new conversation for you! Something wonderful is happening, Bruce.”

Bruce’s expression was blank. “What?”

Dick’s mega-watt grin was back. “Family Day.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “…’Family Day’?”

“Family Day,” Dick affirmed. “Next week. At Damian’s school.”

“No,” Bruce said firmly.

At least he had waited to hear him out before saying “no”. Bruce felt like he was really growing as a father.

“Bruce! It’ll be great! We can support Damian and there’ll be activities and food and it’ll be really fun. Damian needs this! It’s a crucial childhood experience!”

Dick was flat out pleading with him; he was almost pouting. It was upsetting to witness.

But not enough to make Bruce give in.

“Damian would hate that.”

“Damian doesn’t realize how much he wants this, Bruce; this’ll be good for him! For all of us. It’ll help us bond as a family!”

Bruce suppressed a groan. Dick’s unrelenting obsession with “family bonding” was going to end in someone’s death.

Probably an innocent bystander, knowing his children.

“No one is going to go for this,” Bruce stated.

“But, if _you_ encourage them, they definitely will!”

Bruce cocked an eyebrow at his eldest. “You’ve met your brothers, haven’t you?”

Dick wave his hand dismissively and leaned forward, expression painfully earnest. “Bruce. Bruce. _Bruce_. _Please.”_

Bruce grimaced. “Dick. I can’t begin to explain to you how bad an idea this is. It would end in disaster. Which is why I’m saying no.”

Dick was looking at him like Bruce had just betrayed him, but Bruce had become mildly successful at riding out his eldest’s more histrionic tendencies, so he just waited for it to pass.

“How could you not want to do this for Damian?”

Oh. He was guilt tripping now.

( _Wonderful.)_

Bruce sighed. “Dick, _no._ ”

Dick stood with a determined frown. “Fine, but just because you don’t want to support this crucial stage in Damian’s development-“

“It’s Family Day. At his school.”

“Doesn’t mean that the others won’t.”

Bruce stared at Dick dubiously, but didn’t bother saying anything. If Dick wanted to try and convince his siblings to go to Family Day, he was welcome to.

It wouldn’t work, so Bruce wasn’t worried.

“Good luck,” he offered dryly.

“Shame on you,” Dick replied, turning on his heel and stomping out of the room.

Bruce just snorted and shook his head.

He really needed Alfred to convince Dick to let go of this whole family bonding thing.

* * *

 

Cass looked up at the knock on her door, smiling when Dick popped his head into the room.

Her smile dropped almost immediately, an assessing frown taking over her face.

Dick was up to something.

“Hey, ladies. Mind if I join you?”

Steph grinned. “Only if you don’t mind having your nails painted. It’s the admissions price.”

Dick skipped into the room, grinning. “I’ll take blue, please.”

“That’s _so_ Nightwing, you narcissist,” Steph teased, picking up a brilliant blue shade and shaking the bottle.

Dick was amused as he sat down, but he was mostly… anticipatory. Cass stared at him carefully, wondering how long it was going to take him to break and tell them what he was visiting them for.

Not long, probably.

Less than a minute.

Cass was right, of course. Steph had barely finished his thumbnail before he spoke up.

“So, what would you girls think of going to a crazy fun event next Friday?”

“Oh, sound exciting, but I’m busy Friday. What event?” Steph asked.

“Hmm… what do you think, Cass?”

Cass furrowed her brow. “What event?” Cass repeated.

He hesitated. His posture was a little unsure, and he was clearly hedging. “You know, it’ll kind of be like a carnival. There’s games and food and fun! It’ll be great. What do you think, Cass?”

He was all but begging her, posture imploring – with a pout to match.

It was kind of funny, but mostly confusing. Because he obviously wanted this badly, but he was nervous that she wouldn’t agree if she actually knew what the event was.

“Wait – there’s a carnival in Gotham and I don’t know about it? How did I not know about this? It’s next Friday? Where? Man, I can’t believe I can’t go!” Steph cried, looking horrified by this turn of events.

“I don’t think it’s a carnival,” Cass refuted, turning back to Dick.

He laughed awkwardly. “Well, not, you know, a literal carnival. Just… _like_ a carnival.”

Cass stared at him.

He avoided looking at her.

Steph looked between the two of them. “ _Okay_ … If it’s not actually a carnival, what is it? And why does Dick look terrified to actually tell us? Are you actually trying to lead her to her death or something?”

“No, of course not! I just…”

“Want her to agree to go before she knows what it is so that she can’t refuse because if she knows, she won’t want to go?” Steph finished.

Dick’s shoulders hunched slightly. “Maybe do red for the other hand?” he proposed weakly.

Steph snorted. “Red Hood Red or Red Robin Red?”

Dick was genuinely torn “Red Robin really pops, but Red Hood is more saturated, so I’m not really sure… Hmm… You know what? Let’s stick with blue.”

Steph rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless. So, the not-carnival?”

More awkward laughter – he was curling in on himself just a little, away from the two of them. “Oh, well, you know.”

“Dick. Tell us,” Cass prompted.

He sighed heavily, but nodded. “Okay. Just – hear me out? Seriously consider this, okay?”

“I will,” Cass agreed.

“Now, tell us! The suspense is killing me. And don’t fidget; I’ll mess up your nails.”

“Right, sorry. Well, umm… Next Friday is Family Day. At Dami’s school.”

Cass blinked.

Well. That certainly explained his hesitance.

Steph was laughing like a madwoman, but that wasn’t particularly unusual. Cass almost wanted to laugh with her, except the very idea of the entire family going to Damian’s school – and being surrounded by other people – just sounded…

Bad.

“Oh my gosh. Oh. My. Gosh! Why am I busy Friday?” Steph moaned, wiping a tear from her eye. “Oh. I wish I could be there to see all of you insane people around a bunch of normal families doing random activities. It sounds wonderful. Someone’s probably going to die.”

Cass looked at Dick incredulously. Now that he wasn’t hiding the situation from her, he was desperately hopeful.

“Is everyone going?” she asked.

“Ah… I haven’t talked to all of them yet. I talked to Bruce, but he’s just being a spoilsport, you know? So, what do you say? Please, Cass? Damian’s counting on you.”

He said it like he believed it.

Scratch that.

He actually believed it.

Cass wanted to say yes. She did. But, really, this could only end badly. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said quietly, shrugging. “Sorry, Dick.”

He looked heartbroken. “Oh. That’s- that’s okay. I understand.”

She felt so guilty! But she couldn’t bring herself to say yes. Only bad things would come of it.

“I’d go with you if I could, Dick,” Steph offered, putting the cap back on the nail polish and smiling slightly.

“I know, Steph. Thanks. For the nails, too.”

Dick got up and walked out of the room, shoulders slumped, head bowed, walk heavy.

Cass grimaced.

“I feel like we just killed his puppy. And made him watch.”

Cass nodded. “It’s for the best.”

“Killing puppies is never for the best,” Steph countered.

She had a point.

“Yellow or pink?”

“Both,” Cass decided, turning to her best friend and holding her hands out.

“Excellent choice.”

Cass nodded, looking back over her shoulder at the door.

( _I hope the others agree to go with him.)_

* * *

 

Dick was looking at him. Dick was opening his mouth to speak. Dick was about to say something that Jason really didn’t want to hear, so Jason was going to do what needed to be done.

“No,” Jason said.

Preemptive rejection.

Dick’s face fell, but he should honestly be used to rejection by now.

Just look at his face.

( _Nice one, Jason.)_

“I haven’t even said anything yet!” Dick exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air with a huff.

Jason cleared his throat and shifted his weight slightly. “No, no, see? Problem is, I know that face. That’s the face you use when you’re about to ask me to do something that I don’t want to do. In fact, that’s the face you used when you tricked me into taking the brat on that field trip. I’m not doing it again, Dick. I’m not going to jail for you!”

Dick gaped at him. “You were a crime lord!”

“And I never got caught, did I?” Jason pointed out nonchalantly.

“You were in Arkham!”

“But I never when to _jail_ , Dick. I know what happens in jail; I’m too _pretty_ ,” Jason gestured to his face, “to go to jail.”

Dick stared at him in disbelief. “Who told you _that_?”

Jason put a hand on his chest, frowning in mock hurt, before his expression melted into a smirk. “Are you implying that you don’t think someone would try to make me their-“

“Yes!” Dick shouted, looking vaguely queasy. “That is exactly what I’m implying. If it came down to it, you would probably be the one – nope. You know what? Not going there. I’m not doing it. If you want to have this conversation, take it to Tim; I’m not doing it. And I’m not going to let you distract me.”

Jason snickered slightly. “Man, it almost worked too.”

Dick looked completely unamused. “Why do you do this to me?”

“Because it’s fun,” Jason said matter-of-factly. “Now, I’m gonna’ go. Bye.”

“Ah!” Dick jumped in front of him, that ridiculous look back on his face, now with an added undercurrent of determination.

( _Great. Just great.)_

“One of us isn’t getting out of here alive, and I’ve already died once, so…”

“Little Wing, please? Just hear me out!”

“Why can’t you talk to someone who actually cares about what you have to say? Is it because no one like that exists? I understand that’s hard for you, but you shouldn’t punish other people for your own inadequacies.”

“Seriously?” he asked, tone devoid of any emotion.

“Seriously,” Jason affirmed, smirking.

Dick sighed heavily. “There’s going to be a Family Day at Damian’s school on Friday next week. Will you come?”

“Ha ha ha, no. Absolutely not.”

“Jason!”

“I told you I’m not going to jail for you! I’m not going to jail for you, or for him, or for anyone in this family! You all can rot for all I care!”

“No one’s going to jail! And if we did get arrested, Tim would bail us out!”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Jason refuted swiftly.

“No, he wouldn’t,” Dick said, nodding. “He would probably suggest remand and then steal all of our stuff and then take our cases and make sure he lost so we would all go to jail for life.”

“Eh, not all of us. He’d help Cass and Steph.”

“They’re not going.”

“See!” Jason said loudly. “Even they aren’t going! Why would I go?”

“Steph would go, but she’s busy!”

“But Cass isn’t going because she has common sense, right?”

“Since when have you had common sense?”

“Since now! I’m allowed to grow as a person, Dick! You can’t keep me stagnant!”

“I want you to grow! Growing would be supporting your youngest brother on a very important day in his life!”

“Damian doesn’t even care about this!”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s Damian and he hates people and any activities that kids his age think are fun!”

“He only thinks he does! This’ll be good for him!”

“Why are you such a mom?”

“Why don’t you want to support Damian?”

Jason couldn’t keep going. Dick was really serious about this, but he just couldn’t stop himself from laughing. Dick was looking at him forlornly, but Jason figured that was his own fault.

“Look, Dick, I’m not going. Period. The brat wouldn’t even want to do it, and it sounds horrible. Really. Genuinely traumatic. And I know trauma. Go bother someone else.”

“You’ll regret not going when Damian and me and Tim come back with great stories about how much fun Family Day was,” he wheedled.

“Ha, yeah, no.”

Dick huffed and turned on his heel, stomping out of the room. “I hope you get arrested!”

“I hope Tim says no!”

“Why do you hate me?”

Jason snorted and shook his head.

( _Tim’s definitely going to say no.)_

* * *

 

“Timmy?”

Tim grunted and waved vaguely, not looking up from his computer.

Then the situation registered.

_(Crap.)_

All he wanted at that moment was to go back in time by about 10 seconds so he could tell Dick to go away instead of grunting his consent for Dick to have a conversation with him.

Because _that tone._

He knew that tone. He hated that tone. That tone was the tone that Dick used whenever he needed something from Tim and was worried Tim would say no. And, usually, that something had to do with Damian.

Tim took a breath, saved his work, and turned from his computer.

“What do you want?” he asked bluntly.

That sheepish grin was a lie. “Look, I need a favor.”

Tim sighed. “What, Dick?”

“Okay, so, there’s going to be this thing… Family Day. At Damian’s school.”

 “Right,” Tim said dryly, wondering if he could redirect the conversation. “And, which social media platform did you get this from? The Gotham Academy Mom’s Pinterest, Snapchat, Instagram, Twitter, or Facebook?”

“Facebook,” Dick answered, looking confused. “But that’s not the point. The point is, it’s next Friday and I need you to go. Please?”

Redirection didn’t work. Time for a new tactic.

“I’m busy Friday.”

That was a lie.

“No, you’re not!”

“I can be,” Tim retorted with a shrug.

“Why don’t you want to go? It’ll be fun! Games and food and activities-“

“That sounds horrible.”

“Tim! Please? This is important for Damian!”

Tim arched an eyebrow slowly. “Ah.”

“‘Ah’?” Dick repeated bemusedly.

“Mm. I see what this is about.”

Dick looked wary and slightly exasperated.

Good. That was how Tim felt whenever Dick started a conversation using that stupid tone.

“What is this about, exactly?”

“This is about you. Living vicariously through Damian.”

Dick sputtered. “Wha- No!”

“Yes. You don’t have to deny it, Dick. There’s nothing shameful in wanting to participate in things you never got a chance to experience as a child. You only went to a normal school _after_ Bruce took you in, and then it was just the two of you and Alfred. But, here’s Damian, with a large family, going to normal school. You have the chance to live out your childhood fantasies of attending Family Day with plenty of siblings, and you’re jumping at the chance. That’s understandable.”

Dick was staring at him like Tim was spouting nonsense.

He was. But, for nonsense, Tim thought it sounded pretty reasonable. He wondered if he’d ever thanked Bruce for teaching him the valuable skill of improvisation.

He had to make sure he did that.

“Tim,” Dick began. “No.”

“No?” Tim echoed, blinking in false confusion. “Well, I guess everyone has to be wrong about something at least once in their life. If this conversation’s over, I really have to get back to-“

“It’s not over!”

Tim rolled his eyes and slumped into his chair. “Seriously, Dick? Why do you even want me to come? There’s like, an 86% chance that something is going to happen to cause me and Damian to fight and civilians will probably get caught up and, honestly, I don’t feel like having to pay anyone off next week.”

“You don’t have to fight!”

“You say that, but we do. It’s how we communicate.”

“Communicate what?”

“Our mutual dislike and reluctant respect. Obviously. Where have you been?”

Dick didn’t look amused, but Tim wasn’t trying to amuse him. Tim just wanted Dick to leave. Maybe out of frustration.

Because he was _not_ doing this.

Period.

The idea was giving him a stress headache.

“Please, Tim? Just… think about it for a minute. Really think-“

“I thought. And I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s an even worse idea than I first believed, which I didn’t know was possible, but here we are.”

“Tim!” Dick pleaded.

He looked like he was about to drop to his knees and beg. It was honestly sad. Why did things like this have to mean so much to him?

Everyone else got by on a few hours of contact via comms every night.

But, no.

That wasn’t good enough for Dick.

He wanted them to spend time together.

In person.

During the day.

It wasn’t natural.

“What about the others? Can’t you ask them?” Tim questioned, frowning.

He didn’t feel even a little bad at the idea of foisting Dick off on his siblings. As long as he didn’t have to deal with it, he didn’t even care.

“Uh… well…”

“Seriously?” Tim gaped. “They all said no? Doesn’t that make you want to stop and rethink this?”

“No! Because none of them understand the spirit of this?”

“What spirit?”

“The spirit of family! You know what I mean, Tim! _Ohana!_ ”

Tim dropped his face into his hands. “Don’t quote _Lilo and Stitch_ at me.”

“Why not?” Dick demanded passionately. “It was a great movie!”

“Jason started singing Elvis! On patrol! We were sharing a route that week, Dick! He can’t sing! He. Can’t. Sing.”

“I was there; I heard him over the comms, Tim. It was hard for me, too.”

“Obviously not, because you keep bringing that movie up.”

“It was a great movie!

“Fine! Go watch it and leave me alone!”

“Tim! This is important! Family Day! _Family.”_

Tim exhaled sharply and rubbed at his forehead. Okay, time to try something else to get Dick to leave him alone. “Have you considered the ramifications of this?”

Dick blinked. “What ramifications?”

“Lawsuits,” Tim stated plainly.

“Do you and Jason have some sort of mind link, or something?”

“Don’t ever suggest that; I don’t want to know what goes on in his head. More importantly, Jason is finally saying something that makes sense. We’re bound to get sued.”

Dick stared at him sadly. “But, Damian’s been in school for months and we haven’t gotten sued yet!”

“And that’s a miracle,” Tim conceded. “But putting us all in one place – or even just you, me, and Damian – is just asking for trouble. This event is at least 16 lawsuits waiting to happen. And then we’re going to have to settle out of court and people will ask questions. Imagine the scandal. W.E. stock will fall; we’ll have to declare bankruptcy. We’ll be poor and destitute and our standard of living will fall and we won’t be able to protect the city with same efficiency as we did before. The fate of Gotham rests on us not going to Family Day, Dick. Think about that. Just… take a minute and think about that.”

Was Tim exaggerating?

Maybe.

But hyperbole was a recognized form of rhetoric and he really needed Dick to give up on this idea.

Tim didn’t have any other options.

“Tim, please…?”

Tim grimaced and patted Dick’s shoulder. “Quality of life, Dick. Quality of life.”

Dick nodded absently and trudged out of Tim’s room. Tim stared after him, feeling a little bad.

And then he got over it.

_(Crisis averted. Time to get back to work.)_

* * *

 

Dick walked aimlessly through the halls of the Manor. He sighed heavily.

He couldn’t believe that not even one of them had agreed to go.

Not even Cass!

He just didn’t understand it. What was wrong with wanting to go to Family Day? It would be fun to just play a bunch of games and eat nice food and be outside as a family together. And maybe being surrounded by a bunch of civilians would actually stop the others from fighting.

Well, there was no way that was true, but all of the other stuff could have been if they had just been willing to try!

“Is something wrong, Master Dick?”

Dick looked up slowly, giving Alfred a strained smile. “No, Alfred, I just-“

( _Wait a minute.)_

Dick blinked and stared at Alfred like he held the answers to everything in the world. Honestly, he probably did, but that was another matter entirely.

“Alfred. Alfred. Alfred! I need your help!”

Alfred raised an eyebrow. It was only vaguely judgmental, so Dick felt safe to proceed.

“Next Friday, at Damian’s school, they’re having Family Day. And nobody will come! I’ve talked to Bruce and Cass and Jason and Tim and none of them want to go. Will you convince them, please? Or at least Bruce? And he’ll make them go! And then we can have a nice day out! Please, Alfred!”

Dick tensed in anticipation, waiting for his answer.

Alfred hummed. “Well, I suppose I could use a day off.”

Dick grinned, stunned. He’d wasted all that effort trying to convince them individually, and he could have just gone to Alfred from the start!

“Thank you, Alfred! Thank you!”

“Of course – though… Have you spoken to Master Damian about this?”

Dick coughed nervously, shifting from foot to foot. “Uh… no. But, you know, it’ll be a fun surprise!”

“Of course, Master Dick. I’ll speak to Master Bruce; I’m sure Master Damian will enjoy his surprise.”

Dick laughed, scratching the back of his neck. Well, that was full on judgmental. “Right. Well. I’m just gonna’… Thanks, Alfred! See you later! Bye!”

That was a close one.

On the bright side, Alfred was going to make sure they all went to Family Day!

_( _This is going to be great!)__

* * *

 

Damian slipped on his backpack, grimmer than usual.

He didn’t like school. He hated it on a good day – though, there had never actually _been_ a good day.

But today was going to be worse than any other day.

_Family Day._

Damian had been dreading it since it had been announced, but, now it was here and there was nothing he could do about it. Andrews had told the class that they weren’t required to come unless they were participating in the event and bringing their families, so Damian would have loved to stay home, but…

Staying home would have tipped Grayson off, and the last thing he wanted was for Grayson to find out about this ridiculous day. Because, if he did find out, then he would insist on the family going to school with him.

And that was _not_ something Damian would allow to happen.

So, he was making a sacrifice for the sake of his sanity: he would go to school and sit in a corner somewhere until the day was over, and no one would ever be the wiser.

All of Damian’s dreams were shattered when he walked into the kitchen to find Pennyworth, only to come face to face with his brothers and sister instead.

Though Todd, Drake, and Cain looked appropriately calm, Grayson was grinning like an insane person.

“Happy Family Day, Dami!”

“See! Look at that face! He doesn’t want this,” Todd shouted, pointing at Damian.

“Nobody wants this,” Drake drawled.

“Dick wants this,” Cass commented.

“He doesn’t count,” Drake dismissed.

“I count!” Grayson refuted.

“Shut up, Dick,” Todd growled. “This is your fault.”

“What is going on here?” Damian interrupted.

“What do you think?” Drake snarked.

“How?” Damian demanded, barely refraining from stomping his foot.

He had been so close to getting to school without their interference!

“Dick follows school moms on social media,” Cain explained, shrugging in what seemed to be sympathy.

Damian stared at Grayson in pained exasperation. Of course.

“Come on, Dami, it’ll be fun! I mean, great food and fun dames and activities-“

“That argument didn’t work when you used it on any of us; it won’t work on him,” Todd grumbled.

Damian stared. Todd had a point, but that wasn’t really what Damian was focused on.

They were coming with him.

To school.

This was going to be the worst day of his life.

He heaved a sigh and straightened his back. “Fine. Let’s go.”

“We’re waiting for Bruce,” Grayson said, still smiling.

“Father’s coming?” Damian asked, shocked.

“Yeah! Isn’t it great?”

It was horrible actually. He didn’t want his father anywhere near that awful place.

“I hate you all,” he declared.

Grayson’s face fell.

“The feeling’s mutual,” Drake said casually, leaning against the counter and adjusting his lapel.

Damian sneered, but his response was cut off when his father walked into the room.

“Damian,” he greeted steadily, before turning to Grayson exasperatedly. “Are we ready to go?”

“No,” Todd interjected. “I feel like we need to address the most important aspect of what’s happening here. Not the fact that you, Bruce, are forcing us to go to this stupid event, but the fact that you, Bruce, are wearing jeans. It’s disturbing and I need to bleach my eyeballs.”

“Really, Jason?” Father asked, grimacing.

“Yes, really. Also, Tim is wearing a three-piece suit like a little jerkwad, and I’m embarrassed to be associated with him – all of you really.”

Drake just shot Todd a disdainful look. “Is this the only way you know how to cope?”

“Yes,” Todd acknowledge unashamedly. “This and violence.”

Drake snorted, arching an eyebrow first at Grayson and then at Father. His sarcasm was palpable. “Well. Today should be fun.”

Damian stared at all of them and grimaced.

( _My thoughts exactly.)_

 


	2. The Tour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Not even Wuthering Heights.
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world.

Walking onto the Academy grounds and seeing all of the kids roaming around with their families – stands were set up, space had been allotted for games, there was music playing, and laughter-!

Dick had been excited for this day, but he hadn’t thought it would be _this_ great.

He turned around to look at his family, expecting some semblance of enthusiasm now that they were finally here.

“Ugh…kill me now. Again.”

Dick stared blankly at Jason.

( _Why?)_

“Do you have a preference?” Tim drawled, scrolling through his phone. “Poison, strangulation, exsanguination, broken neck, stabbing?”

“I don’t know,” Jason groused. “Just make it hurt, so it distracts me from this atrocity.”

“I’ll kill you if you return the favor,” Damian grumbled.

“Boys,” Bruce stated.

Dick smiled. “Thank you, Bruce.”

Bruce gave him a pained look before pasting on a smile and waving at the people who were gawking.

Right. Celebrity status was kind of a pain. Especially when you were surrounded by the rest of Gotham’s elite.

“Oh my gosh. Bruce is smiling. Make it stop.”

“We’re in public, surrounded by the upper crust. What did you expect, Jason?”

“You know what, Tim? I don’t need your attitude. I’m changing my will and leaving all of my safe houses to Damian.”

“I don’t want your safe houses, Todd.”

“You left your safe houses to Tim?” Cass asked, amused.

Tim shot Jason an incredulous look. “You have a will?”

“After you die once and realize that not having a will means Bruce will give your suit to a nerdy, subpar stalker, you make sure you don’t make that mistake again.”

Damian snorted.

Tim glared at both of them.

Bruce was absorbed in playing his roll, smiling and waving and shaking hands, and Cass was just watching.

Which meant he was in charge of reigning them in.

This is not how he planned for things to go.

“Guys,” Dick hissed, slightly. “Are you seriously having this conversation? Are you actually talking about this?”

“What?” Damian asked with a smirk. “Todd makes a fair point. I should draw up a will myself, to make sure my title goes to a worthy successor in case I can’t choose. Otherwise, the worst might happen, and Drake’s progeny will take my place.”

Jason was cackling. More people were staring.

Tim just scoffed. “As if we’re not all sterile at this point.”

Cass covered her mouth, but she couldn’t hide the way her shoulders were shaking; Bruce’s eye was twitching, in spite of his carefully crafted smile; Damian was staring at Tim like he might actually have a point; and Jason started choking on air.

Dick was just done. With all of them.

“What the- seriously, Tim?” Jason exclaimed, horrified.

“What?” he said, shrugging, the epitome of nonchalance. “After everything we’ve been through – and been exposed to – do you really think we can have kids?”

“Father had me,” Damian countered, though he sounded less argumentative and more curious.

Of course, Tim and Damian could be civil when it came to discussion horrifying things that should never be discussed. Especially in public.

Of. Course.

Tim just shrugged again. “True, but I’m thinking he’s less the rule and more the exception. I mean, death, the number of toxins we’ve dealt with, the radiation from time, space, and inter-universe travel, exposure to various harmful magics and alien substances, physical trauma, etcetera. You really think we’re not infertile by now?”

Damian was nodding along thoughtfully; Jason was still choking on air; Bruce seemed to be doing his best to pretend he didn’t have any children; Cass was barely holding back tears, she was laughing so hard; Dick was, also, barely holding back tears – but only because he had promised himself he wasn’t going to cry today, no matter what his brothers put him through.

“Maybe,” Dick began weakly, “we shouldn’t have this conversation while we’re surrounded by small children?”

Tim looked up from his phone, scanning the area. “Oh, right. Kids.”

Jason had recovered enough to roll his eyes. “The world’s second greatest detective, everybody.”

Tim arched an eyebrow. “Maybe don’t reference work stuff while we’re surrounded by civilians.”

Jason gaped. “Are you kidding? You just referenced literally every-“

He cut himself off at Tim’s smirk.

“Ha, you think you’re so funny. Don’t think I’m not going to get you back for that.”

And now Dick had to watch out for Tim and Jason getting into a fight. Perfect.

He honestly would have preferred having to referee Tim and Damian. Damian listened to him more often than not, and all they ever did was sneer at each other and make threats – with the occasional flying tackle from Damian, but that was easily intercepted.

When Tim and Jason fought, it was a strange, convoluted system of setting each other up for failure, pranking each other in increasingly inventive and destructive ways, or throwing things that really shouldn’t be thrown.

This day was already turning out so well!

( _I should have listened to them. Coming here was an awful idea.)_

Bruce turned to them, finally finished with the show he was putting on. Even behind his mask, it was easy to tell he was… actually, it was hard to figure out if that was annoyance, anger, or despair at having such unruly children. His mask was really good.

“Well, why don’t we get going? Someone gave me this pamphlet; apparently, we’re supposed to head to Damian’s class before we get started with all this other stuff.”

“Ugh… he’s talking to me. Make him stop.”

Dick smiled at Bruce – grateful for the redirection – and pretended he wasn’t as uncomfortable as Jason. He’d been around it for nearly his whole life, but it didn’t make it any less weird to see Bruce adapt his public persona.

The only people who weren’t bothered by it were Cass and Tim. Cass because affected mannerisms didn’t really change underlying body language, and Tim because “it’s a brilliant piece of work; we should all be doing it, to be honest.” Or because he liked the fact that it made the rest of them squirm.

Who knew?

Dick nodded at Bruce, grabbing the pamphlet from taking a breath to fortify himself. This day could still turn out okay. “Yes! Let’s go. Dami, wanna’ show us where we’re headed?”

Damian did not want to show them where they were headed. His glare said that clearly enough. But, after an extended staring contest, during which Dick nodded vigorously while grinning harder than he felt, Damian finally gave in.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “This way. And try not to embarrass me. I have to see these fools every day and I don’t need your ridiculous antics giving them a reason to approach me.”

“He’s joking, right?” Jason asked.

Cass just shook her head and stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Damian’s shoulders.

“Oh, Jason. Don’t you know by now that Damian doesn’t have a sense of humor?”

“Are you sure you aren’t talking about yourself, Drake?”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I’m the only one with a sense of humor in this family,” Jason interjected.

Tim scoffed. “And by sense of humor, do you mean morbid death jokes or crass commentary?”

“Just because you don’t get it doesn’t make it any less funny!”

“Actually, Todd, I think that’s what people who _don’t_ have a sense of humor say.”

“Shut up, brat.”

Tim shook his head, snickering.

Dick sighed and met Bruce’s gaze with a weak smile.

His mask peeled away just enough to reveal his patented “I told you so” look.

Yeah.

Today was going to be _awesome._

* * *

 

Stepping into Damian’s classroom and seeing the look of horror that crossed the teacher’s face made Tim wonder why he had told Dick he didn’t want to come.

Well, lawsuits. Which were inevitable.

But they would be _worth_ it.

She faltered, but forced a smile and approached them. “Oh. Damian. You’re here! And your family. Hi! I’m Stacy. Andrews. Damian’s teacher.”

“That much is obvious, Andrews.”

Did she just-

She flinched when Damian talked to her.

( _Wow. Wow.)_

“Ah, it’s good to meet you in person, Stacy,” Bruce said, grinning and shaking her hand.

She just nodded and avoided making eye contact with all of them.

“Stacy,” Dick said, trying to smile genuinely and failing. “It’s good to see you again.”

Tim exchanged an amused look with Cass. She saw more than him, but it was easy to figure out that Dick was still uncomfortable around her after her frustratingly incorrect, but warranted comment about Damian being a psychopath.

Either that, or he was just being drained of the will to live the longer he talked to her, simply because she was a teacher. The past few weeks had been full of Dick muttering about how the Gotham Academy administrative staff was his worst enemy.

Dick laughed awkwardly at something that was said before looking to Cass, silently pleading for help. She obliged him with more grace than anyone else in the family would have.

Tim cocked an eyebrow when Jason slung an arm around his shoulder.

“You know, I’m thinking that we probably should have brought her a gift or something. I mean, she has to put up with Damian for hours – five days a week. That’s more time than any civilian should have to spend with him in a lifetime.”

“That’s more time than anyone should have to spend with him in a lifetime.”

Jason grinned. “Seriously, though. Stacy’s not that bad.”

“She called him a psychopath, Jason. I can’t condone that sort of ignorance,” Tim retorted, mostly joking, kind of serious.

“Totally not her fault. I mean, Damian, Tim. Damian. She’s _this_ close to a psychotic break. Look at her.”

Tim looked. She _was_ kind of shaking. Though that might be because Damian was looking at her.

He shrugged in response. “I guess.”

“Exactly. So, gifts. I’ve got ten bucks, some nail polish, and a karambit. Except she probably doesn’t want a knife – bad memories – the nail polish is Cass’s because I’m better at painting her nails than any of you losers-“

“Good for you.”

“And I need those ten bucks. What do you got?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Well, I could give her some shark repellent.”

Jason shot him a vaguely disturbed look.

“What? It’s useful. I’d want someone to give me shark repellent.”

Maybe not. There’d be no telling if their supplier was as good as his – it was just better if he got it himself.

“Seriously? Seriously, Tim? You have shark repellent on you? Right now?”

“What part of _always_ do you not understand, Jason? And you don’t get to judge me when you’re walking around with a karambit in your pocket. I didn’t even know you knew Silat.”

“I have hidden depths.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do; I can have hidden depths if I want to!”

“Okay, one: you don’t get to choose if you have hidden depths. Two: you know one martial art that I didn’t know you knew – that doesn’t constitute ‘hidden depths’.”

“You can’t tell me if I have hidden depths!”

“The person who has hidden depths doesn’t typically admit to having hidden depths – if those hidden depths are genuine. Because they’re trying to keep them hidden.”

“Well maybe I think it’s time I finally get the recognition I deserve. Ever think about that?”

“No, because you don’t deserve any recognition.”

Jason barked a laugh. “You know what?”

“What, Jason?”

Whatever, likely ridiculous, comment Jason was about to make was cut off when Bruce called to them.

“Boys, come over here! Don’t you want to meet Stacy?”

Jason shuddered exaggeratedly. “Can we kill whatever demon is possessing his body, and do you think Damian summoned it?”

Tim smirked and walked forward, shrugging Jason’s arm off of his shoulder. Jason followed behind him.

“And this is Tim and Jason – you know Jason, right, Stacy?”

She laughed nervously. “Yes, yes. Jason. Hi.”

“Stacy,” Jason greeted, somewhere between pitying and amused.

Tim nodded at her. “So… psychopathy.”

Bruce was smiling, but his eyes were completely dead; Tim was always slightly impressed with himself when he was managed to elicit that reaction.

Cass looked exasperated, which was better than disappointed, so he counted it as a win.

Damian was rolling his eyes, but who cared?

Stacy had completely frozen, which was a nice complement to the horrified, strangled noise that Dick let out.

“Oh my gosh, you broke him, Babybird! You broke him! This is wonderful!”

Tim finally admitted to himself that he was a horrible person. He probably should have acknowledged that sooner in his life; he could have avoided putting himself in so many situations where people expected him to be a good person. His life could have been so much easier.

Well, probably not.

He was really a victim of circumstances. Which is probably _why_ he was such a horrible person.

That, and Jason.

Blaming Jason worked, too. He was a horrible influence.

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t really. “I just… I’m not entirely sure classifying Damian as a psychopath is the right way to go. Just, looking at the characteristics of psychopathy according to APA approved sources, he doesn’t fit the bill.”

Was he being unnecessarily pedantic? Yes.

Did he particularly care at the moment? No.

He really felt this was an issue that needed to be addressed.

“I- I- I-,” Stacy stuttered, looking over his shoulder.

“That’s because I’m not a psychopath, Drake,” Damian stated, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes like this entire conversation was pointless.

It was.

But still.

“I mean,” Tim continued, “if we’re going down the list of personality disorders, I’m sure we can find one that matches. And he’s definitely not a well-adjusted individual. Just, psychopathy? No. And diagnosing a child as a psychopath – or even a sociopath – isn’t exactly standard, given developmental hurdles. You know?”

“Actually, I think it’s time to go, huh? Plenty of stuff to do!” Bruce exclaimed, grinning brightly.

“YES! I mean- no. I mean… Okay. Enjoy your day,” Stacy stammered, grimacing.

Tim wasn’t sure if he should feel bad or not. He really didn’t feel like he got to make his point in a way she would understand; but she looked like she was on the edge, so it was probably better to leave now.

“Have a nice day, Stacy!” Bruce called, as he led them out of the class room.

Dick trudged ahead, devoid of life. Cass linked her arm with his and pulled Damian along with them. Jason cackled quietly, shooting a grin Tim’s way before walking ahead.

Bruce sighed heavily and _looked_ at him.

He winced. “I know, I know, just…it actually really bugged me. I mean, what are we donating to this school for if not to fund the hiring of properly educated teachers?”

“Right.”

Tim paused thoughtfully. “She is getting a check, though, right?”

“As soon as the school year’s over,” Bruce affirmed quietly.

Tim nodded.

She deserved it.

* * *

 

“All right,” Jason began, “if Tim gets to torture poor innocent teachers like some Damian knock-off-”

“Oh, please,” Tim muttered.

“As if he could ever compare to me in any way.”

“I’m the original.”

“You’re the Replacement,” Jason countered before continuing his speech. “Then I get a tour before we go around doing lame stuff that Dick wants to do.”

“It wouldn’t be lame!”

“What tour?” Bruce asked, exasperation tinging his tone.

At least he sounded like a normal person.

Or, normal for Bruce, anyway.

“Damian has to take us around the school and show us all the places where he ruined people’s lives. Mostly Dickiebird’s, by making the school call home.”

Dick looked bereft. “Can we not?”

“What are you talking about, Todd?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Tim snarked.

“No!” Dick interrupted. “We are not doing this to me!”

“You don’t get a say,” Jason declared. “Where to first? Timmers? Cass?”

Jason ignored Bruce, Dick, and Damian, because their opinions really didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

Cass shook her head with a small smile and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“The gym, obviously. It got him suspended.”

“Nice, Tim, nice! You’ve officially surpassed Damian on my list of favorites siblings.”

“Oh. I change my mind. Let’s not go on a tour. Anything that pushes me higher on your list is something I do my best to avoid.”

Jason rolled his eyes and smirked. “You know what, Tim, no one likes you. Besides, you know this is a great idea.”

The corner of Tim’s mouth lifted slightly. “One of your few.”

He was such a jerk. It was great.

“Whatever. I have great ideas, right, Cass?”

“Right,” she agreed.

“Ha! See? All right, Damian, lead the way to the gym.”

Damian stared at him, kind of like he didn’t believe what he was hearing, mostly like he wanted to fight him.

“Let’s just get it over with, Little D,” Dick said with a sigh, staring into the distance like he was friggin’ Heathcliff.

Man, Dick was dramatic.

Damian sighed heavily but began walking.

Jason grinned, wrapping an arm around Cass’s shoulder and winking. “Steph is going to be so jealous that she couldn’t be here.”

“She was the only one who wanted to go.”

“And, from now on, I will bow to the eternal wisdom of Steph, who always seems to know how best to torment Damian. Seriously, it’s like she’s got a sixth sense. It’s creepy. And amazing.”

She smiled slightly. “Are you tormenting him?”

Jason shrugged. “Eh. It’s more like tormenting Dick. Damian’s in complete agony over the fact that this thing is even happening; I don’t think anything I do could actually make it worse. Which is sort of painful for me to admit.”

She leaned into him. “Poor Dick.”

“He’s a man. Sort of. He’ll get over it. Probably.”

She laughed a little, and he smiled before looking over his shoulder.

“Get off your stupid phone, Tim. Unless you’re documenting this for posterity.”

“I think we’ve already been over the whole posterity-issue once today…”

Cass kept laughing, but Jason only stared at Tim, disturbed.

“How about you never bring that conversation up again?”

“Seconded,” Dick chimed in.

“Actually, let’s talk more about that. Tim? Thoughts?”

“Seriously, Jason? Did I do something to you recently?”

“You’re the reason we’re here!”

“You seemed happy about that just a minute ago!”

He had been. He still was. But it was always fun to mess with Dick. “Yeah, well, what are you gonna’ do, Dick? What are you gonna’ do?”

“If the two of you are done, we’re here,” Damian interrupted, shooting the two of them unimpressed looks. “Let’s get this over with.”

Jason grinned and walked into the gym, looking around. There weren’t many people in here, which was good because it meant that he wouldn’t have to put up with Bruce smiling. He was definitely going to have nightmares.

“So, this is it,” Jason breathed, a little awed. “This is where you threatened to gouge out your gym teacher’s eyes.”

“That was in the hallway, Todd.”

“Yeah, Jason, get your facts straight.”

“No one asked you, Tim.”

“Why are you encouraging him?” Dick questioned, pained. “Threatening his teacher wasn’t good. He-“

“Good morning! I’m Ms. James. How-“

The woman who walked up to greet them stopped talking as soon as she laid eyes on Damian.

( _I feel so blessed.)_

“Oh. You.”

Tim’s poker face was in full effect; Jason wondered how hard it was for him not to laugh at her reaction. Jason wasn’t even trying to stop himself.

“Ah, Ms. James! Hello! We just thought we’d take a tour of Damian’s school; you only had the one class with him – exercise-induced asthma, you know – but we still thought we’d visit, you know.”

At this point, Jason wasn’t even bothered with Bruce’s cringe-worthy pleasantness.

Exercise-induced asthma. He’d forgotten that he and Tim had come up with that.

( _Good times, man. Good times.)_

“Martha! Have you seen my- Oh.”

Jason wasn’t even losing it. He had already lost it. It was gone. He. Could. Not. Stop. Laughing.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and Tim looked over only to see Tim nodding at him seriously.

“Great idea,” he affirmed.

Jason patted Tim’s back firmly. “It’s better than I ever thought it could be.”

At a raised voice, Jason turned back to the conversation going on between the others.

“Do I need to get a restraining order?” the man who walked up asked, looking frightened.

“What?” Dick asked, mouth hanging open. “No! We’re not- please-“

“He’s glaring at me! He’s glaring! If you don’t leave, I will file a restraining order! Don’t ever come near me again!”

Dick looked at a complete loss. “I- he’s not- we don’t-“

“I don’t care! I still have nightmares! Martha. Martha, I can’t do this.”

Tim didn’t seem too bothered that Jason was leaning his entire weight against him. He just kept mouthing the word “lawsuit” over and over again, eyes closed as he held Jason up.

Jason didn’t care.

He wasn’t keeping it together. At all. This was one of the best things that had ever happened to him.

Damian had edged past Tim on his favorite siblings list again. But really, it had only been a matter of time.

“All right, sport, don’t worry about it, huh? We’re leaving! Come on, let’s go, everyone.”

“Sorry about your PTSD!” Jason called as Tim pulled him out of the gym.

“Hold on,” Tim said after they had left the room. “I need a minute.”

“Tt. His reaction was completely disproportionate. He was calm when he informed me that I couldn’t participate in physical education,” Damian grumbled, shooting glares at all of them.

“Sometimes, things like this take a while to set in,” Cass explained calmly.

He didn’t understand how she was so chill. But that was just Cass.

“I can’t breathe,” Jason gasped, leaning next to Tim against the wall.

“We’re going to get sued for emotional distress after he files that restraining order,” Tim said, though he sounded more amused than bothered.

“I’m sorry, okay, Tim? I’m sorry about the lawsuits!” Dick cried, looking halfway to a breakdown.

“Grayson! Get a hold of yourself!”

“I can’t, Dami. I can’t do this.”

Damian looked unsure, and then relived when Cass came over to rub circles on Dick’s back.

“Deep breaths, Dick.”

Jason threw his head back, laughing so hard he could feel tears welling up in his eyes. He felt Tim lean his head against his shoulder and turned curiously.

“‘ _Sorry about your PTSD_ ’,” Tim repeated.

“We’re horrible people,” Jason gasped out in between laughing.

Tim nodded vigorously.

“You really are,” Bruce muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose and looking them at them all like he had officially given up.

Which was a good idea. There honestly wasn’t any hope for them. Better not to waste his time.

“Can we move on, please?” Dick begged, apparently having been talked out of hyperventilating by Cass. “Before he comes out and sees us lurking by the door?”

Jason snickered, but went with Tim when he pulled at him.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t see this through to the finish?” Jason asked, smirking.

“ _Yes_ ,” Dick said heatedly.

“Seriously,” Tim agreed, “I really don’t want to deal with any lawsuits. I’m not prepared to defend Damian in court.”

“I’d rather have an _actual_ lawyer represent me anyway.”

“I think you’re protesting the wrong thing, Dami,” Cass pointed out.

“Hardly,” he scoffed. “If I ever did have to go to court, I’d want appropriate legal representation. I doubt Drake would be competent enough.”

“It’s not a matter of my competence,” Tim drawled. “I’m not prepared to represent you because of my inherent bias against you. It’d be a conflict of interest.”

Damian sneered.

“Where to next?” Dick questioned, louder than he should have.

This was great.

“The Cafeteria,” Tim said. “We need to see where Damian got sent to the office for smoking. And where he attacked Davidson.”

Tim’s sneer was a near perfect copy of Damian’s. That was fair: Jason got angry whenever he thought about that stupid, freaking kid, too.

“That seems like a bad idea,” Bruce objected.

He was duly ignored.

“Let’s get this done so we can actually do something fun,” Dick groused, expression going sour.

“I feel like you’re probably the only one here that isn’t having fun,” Jason teased, following after Damian when he started walking.

“Bruce isn’t having fun,” Dick retorted.

“Bruce doesn’t know what fun is.”

“Well, Damian isn’t having fun either! Right, Damian?”

“Obviously not.”

“Damian also doesn’t know what fun is.”

“You know what I’d find _fun_ , Todd?”

“Is this going to be some comment about you seeing him in pain?” Tim asked wryly.

Damian didn’t respond.

( _That’s a yes.)_

“Here,” Damian grumbled after a few minutes of walking, shooting a glare at Jason and Tim. He pointed at a spot on the ground, smirking slightly. “This is where I tackled Davidson.”

Jason stared. “Wow. Can you believe we’re actually here, Timmy?”

Tim’s lips twitched. “You know what this means?”

“What?” Jason asked, grinning.

“We need to take pictures. Steph is going to want to see this.”

“Absolutely,” Jason agreed. “Cass, you want in on this? Dick, you don’t get a choice; get over here and stop pretending you don’t want something to commemorate this moment by.”

He pouted a little, but came to stand by them without complaint.

‘All right,” Tim stated, standing in front of them as they stood on the spot. “Damian, you get in front. We’re all going to kneel behind him. Jason, you go on the far right; Dick, Cass, go next, and I’ll go on Cass’s other side. B, take a few shots, okay?”

Tim walked around and claimed his spot. Jason just looked at him.

“You know, when someone asks me how my little brother became so good at photography, I’m going to have to tell them you learned it from stalking. Do you understand how weird that’s going to be for me, personally? Considering I’m one of the people you stalked?”

Damian snorted, and Tim narrowed his eyes at both of them.

“Smile,” Cass instructed, pointing at Bruce.

“Say ‘cheese’, on 3,” Dick added, already grinning.

Jason thought it was a little sad how easily his mood lifted once they started taking pictures together, but it wasn’t that surprising. Dick was really serious about this family scrapbook thing he and Steph were doing.

“Nobody does that anymore,” Jason complained.

“Say ‘Batman’,” Cass suggested.

“This is ridiculous,” Damian muttered.

“Make sure you smile, Dami!”

Bruce looked slightly exasperated – which might just be his permanent expression at this point – as he stared at them; he obviously agreed with Damian’s assessment of the situation. But who cared what Bruce thought? No one. This was an important occasion and photos needed to be taken.

“Bruce! Countdown!” Dick exclaimed.

He sighed heavily, but complied. “1, 2, 3.”

“Batman!” Dick and Cass cried simultaneously.

Tim stood after the pictures were taken. “Did you get a good shot?” he inquired, taking his phone back from Bruce and flicking through the photos. “This one is nice.”

“We should hang it,” Jason said.

He hadn’t seen it yet, but any reminder of the time Damian got away with threatening his bully with a knife should be celebrated.

“We’ll put it on the refrigerator,” Dick approved.

“Are we done here?” Damian questioned, crossing his arms and looking away from them.

Cass hugged him to her side. “To the next spot then.”

Damian nodded grudgingly and led them the rest of the way to the cafeteria. There were a couple of families sitting at various tables – snobs that didn’t like the idea of eating stall food probably.

( _You gotta’ love Gotham’s elite.)_

“It’s through those doors,” Damian told them, gesturing to the back exit.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Tim scoffed.

“What?” Cass asked, cocking her head.

The look on Tim’s face was coolly assessing and about 5 seconds away from being that brutally calculating expression that tended to come out when he was faced with something that bothered the Red Robin in him.

Jason looked around. He didn’t see any supervillains or paparazzi, so he had no idea what could be upsetting him.

Tim didn’t answer Cass, walking forward purposefully.

Bruce’s eyes were squinted in that way that meant he was expecting one of his children to do something vaguely illegal.

Jason was kind of excited to see what was about to happen, so he followed after Tim. Dick and Cass joined him, pulling Damian along.

“Ah,” Damian hummed. “This is going to be a disaster.”

“What?” Jason demanded.

There was a strange half-smirk on Damian’s face that was a little more vicious than normal. “You’ll see.”

Okay. Now, Jason was really excited.

He shared a look with Dick, mimicking his older brother’s raised eyebrow.

Tim stopped in front of a family of three: a boy about Damian’s age, and two people who were presumably his parents. The woman looked up, her lip curling into a sneer when she registered Tim’s presence.

“Mrs. Davidson,” Tim greeted sharply.

( _Oh, snap.)_

Jason noticed Dick and Cass tensing next to him.

It was official: this was the best day ever.

“Mr. Drake,” the woman replied stiffly.

Her husband looked terrified. Her son also looked terrified, though he was looking at Damian. Honestly, she looked terrified, too, but she was hiding it better than the other two.

( _Man. What did Tim say to her in that meeting?)_

“It’s good to see you again,” Tim continued, with a smile that was completely inappropriate for the given situation.

Except it was completely appropriate because this kid was a jerk, and she probably was too.

“You remember Damian, of course. This is Dick, Jason, and Cass. Everyone, this is Mrs. Davidson. You remember, she called Damian a brat and tried to get him suspended after her son insulted him and told lies about him.”

“Oh, those Davidsons!” Dick exclaimed, predatory in a way he rarely was.

Jason honestly wanted to join in on the intimidation tactics, but he was just having too much fun. Also, Cass had started glaring, and the Davidsons looked like they were going to faint as a collective whole, so he figured forcing them to deal with the combined wrath of all 4 of them, plus Damian’s fiercely smug smirk would probably be too much.

They didn’t want to kill the civilians from fear induced heart attacks or anything.

Not that he was going to intervene or anything.

He just wasn’t going to help.

Well, maybe he was grinning a little meanly at them, but he wasn’t saying anything, so he figured he was being the most well-behaved of all of them.

“Yeah,” Tim confirmed casually, tilting his head slowly as a fake concerned look came over his face. “How’s your company doing by the way? I heard your stock fell.”

Damian looked as amused as Jason was. But really, what other reaction could one possibly have to Tim’s absolutely caustic inquiry?

Mrs. Davidson’s face had transitioned from unbelievably pale to disturbingly puce. And Jason’s day just kept getting better.

Dick was opening his mouth now, and Jason was preparing himself for something just as harsh, and, _somehow_ , less subtle, when they were interrupted.

“Ah, don’t you think it’s time we move on? We have to get going if we want to get through all of these activities before the day’s over!”

Creepy Bruce had once again made his appearance, and cemented his position as Jason’s least favorite family member. Though, there hadn’t been much competition.

Jason hated Creepy Bruce.

No one looked like they wanted to move, so Bruce wrapped his arms around Tim and Dick’s shoulders and dragged them along, nonchalantly waving at the Davidsons.

“Bye now! Have a good day!”

Jason and the others followed reluctantly, though Damian kept looking back at the table where they’d left the Davidsons, a smirk etched onto his face.

Jason sighed and turned to Bruce as soon as they were out of earshot of the other family. “You came in just when things were about to get good, Bruce!”

Dick nodded and Tim just frowned, both of them disappointed. Cass pouted slightly; she had obviously been as invested in the confrontation as the rest of them.

Bruce just rolled his eyes. “I’d rather none of you got arrested today.”

Tim’s lips twisted in grudging acknowledgement.

“We’ve done worse and not been arrested, Father. I don’t see the problem.”

Jason grinned, patting Damian’s back. He loved this kid. “Yeah, Bruce. What’s the problem?”

An unimpressed glance was shot his way. “All of you were being unnecessarily hostile.”

“What?” Dick cried, looking genuinely confused. “I think that was the perfect level of hostility. It could have been _way_ worse.”

“I know,” Bruce said dryly. “Now, can we move on?”

Dick nodded slowly with a sigh. “Yeah. I guess.”

“And you didn’t want to go on the tour,” Jason pointed out.

“You didn’t even want to come,” Dick countered, grinning slightly.

“Eh. To be fair, I don’t want to do half the stuff you suggest.”

Dick rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. “That’s because you don’t like having fun.”

“No, it’s because you’re lame.”

“You’re both lame,” Damian said decisively. “Now, what’s next?”

“Hmm,” Dick said, ignoring the insult and pulling the pamphlet out of his pocket. “Let’s see what sounds best.”

Jason smiled, cracking his knuckles.

He was kind of looking forward to the rest of the day.


	3. Hula Hoops and Snack Breaks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. 
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world.

Dick flipped through the pamphlet, unable to stop himself from grinning.

Not that he wanted to stop.

Admittedly, the beginning of the day had left him feeling like he’d made the biggest mistake of his life by even suggesting that they come to this event.

Admittedly, dealing with Stacy and then watching Tim traumatize her had been horrifying.

Admittedly, Jason’s tour idea had nearly pushed him to a breakdown.

But!

It had all turned out okay! They’d taken pictures! They’d intimidated jerks who were mean to Dami!

The day was turning around, and it might even get better: Jason and Cass were obviously getting into it, and Tim was clearly coming around – sort of. And Dami…

Well, Dami was a work in progress.

So was Bruce.

But things were still better than they had been when they’d first gotten here, so Dick had hope.

“Well, Grayson?” Damian demanded. “What next?”

He didn’t exactly sound happy about there being a “next”, but at least he was asking. Showing interest was a good sign.

Dick hummed and turned to Damian with a smile. “I’ve got a great idea.”

“No, you don’t,” Jason said, smirking.

Dick stuck his tongue out and turned back to Damian. “On the other side of the campus – bouncy house.”

“Yes, absolutely,” Jason said, a wide smile forming on his face.

Cass nodded vigorously.

( _I knew it was a great idea!)_

“No,” Bruce said.

“… _Bouncy house?”_ Damian repeated derisively, sneering.

“Absolutely not,” Tim said, looking at him like he’d lost his mind.

Well, if he had, it was definitely their fault.

“Well,” Dick replied, “it looks like we’re tied. So… I think we’re gonna’ go.”

“That’s a horrible idea, Grayson.”

Jason pursed his lips and shrugged. “Honestly, kid, it doesn’t matter what you think. We’re going. Definitely.”

Dick grinned at Jason. He was pretty sure that Jason was planning something ridiculous and didn’t actually respect the sanctity of bouncy houses – bouncy houses were awesome; they were like trampolines, but cooler! – but Dick would take what he could get. There was no telling how long Jason would be on his side, anyway.

Tim scoffed. “Didn’t you just say that you didn’t want to do anything he suggested?”

( _Why do you have to bring stuff like that up, Timmy?)_

Jason snorted. “You can’t put me in a box, Tim!”

Tim shot him a dry look. “You put yourself in a box. Like, one minute ago. Everyone was here for here for that.”

“Yeah? Well, you can’t _keep_ me in a box; I’m taking myself _out_ of the box!”

“Pity,” Damian stated. “I liked you better there.”

Well.

 _That_ sounded vaguely homicidal and would only lead to a completely different and much more disturbing conversation, so:

“We’re going to the bouncy house, because bouncy houses are awesome? Right? Cass?”

Cass nodded. “It sounds fun.”

He beamed at her; she was really getting into the spirit of the day!

“Cass thinks it’s fun, and we should listen to Cass, so we’re going.”

“Oh, we should listen to Cass, huh? Where was that attitude when she said she didn’t want to come?”

 _And_ Jason was no longer on his side.

Well, he might still want to go to the bouncy house, but he had completely shifted gears at this point.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Can we focus on what matters here? The bouncy house is a great place where only good things happen; that’s where we need to be.”

“You do know that 5 kids were injured when a bouncy house got swept away by a gust of wind, right? And another kid died from the same thing happening.”

Dick stared at Tim in horror. Why did it always have to be this way?

“How do you know this?” Jason demanded, gaping at their little brother.

Tim shrugged nonchalantly. “I know things.”

“Debatable,” Damian retorted. “Though, for once, Drake has a point. These… _bouncy houses,”_ he said, spitting out the phrase disdainfully, “are obviously death traps. And the name alone sounds idiotic. We shouldn’t go.”

Dick was about to counter Damian’s statement with an argument mostly composed of the words “fun”, “crucial childhood experience”, and “please”, when Bruce cut in.

“You are aware of the height and weight restrictions, aren’t you?”

They all turned to stare at him.

“Damian is the only one who’d be allowed to go in.”

“Crap,” Jason muttered. “Why are all of your ideas so horrible, Dick?”

“I got caught up in the moment!” Dick explained. “It’s a bouncy castle! They’re fun.”

“No, they’re not,” Tim commented. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“I can,” Damian muttered.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Well, we’re obviously not doing that-“

Dick found himself sighing simultaneously with Cass. Who even followed those height and weight rules anyway?

“So, what _are_ we doing?” Tim finished.

Dick hummed thoughtfully, letting the bouncy house idea go and turning back to the list of activities in the pamphlet.

“Getting food,” Jason suggested.

“You suggested the tour; it’s my turn,” Dick retorted.

“Hunger trumps turns,” Jason said plainly. “And, just because Tim subsists purely on coffee-“

“That’s not true,” Tim protested.

“Yes, it is; you’re a pathological liar.”

“You’re just saying things we already know, Todd.”

Jason snickered. “Well, I don’t want you guys to forget who Tim is, you know?”

“Okay, can we get back to the point? If you had one?” Tim redirected.

Jason rolled his eyes, but complied. “Food. I want some. Let’s eat. They’re selling carnival food, right? Deep-fried corndogs.”

Damian snarled. “That sounds disgusting, Todd.”

“You’re a vegetarian, so no one cares,” Jason retorted.

“I love how you marginalize an entire group just because Damian’s in it. I respect that. I _aspire_ to that,” Tim remarked.

“Oh, grow up, Drake.”

“After you, Demon – if your growth hasn’t already been stunted so badly that-“

“We can eat after we do an activity!” Dick interrupted.

He didn’t want to hear about Tim talking about things being stunted. He also didn’t want Damian to attack Tim for picking on his height.

Again.

“Right, Bruce?”

Bruce looked like he didn’t want to be pulled into this. Well, too bad. He shouldn’t have had so many kids if he didn’t want to deal with things like this. It was really his own fault.

“Right,” Bruce said with a grimace. “Let’s go.”

“Where?” Cass asked.

Dick blinked. Right. He needed to pick something. “Ah… Oh! Hula hooping!”

“Kill me now,” Jason moaned.

“So, you begging for death is going to be a recurring thing today?” Tim asked, cocking an eyebrow and smirking slightly.

“Apparently.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Damian said.

“What’s with you and killing me today, Damian? Shouldn’t you be focusing that on Tim?”

“I think he has enough homicidal intent for both of us, Jason.”

“I certainly do, Drake.”

Dick sighed and hung his head. “You’re not supposed to admit to that, Little D.”

“At least not in public,” Cass added.

“Can we go?” Bruce interjected.

Dick smiled and turned to him. “Finally enjoying yourself, Bruce? I knew you’d come around.”

He looked unamused. Dick just grinned wider and put his arm around Cass’s shoulder.

“This is going to be great,” he said. “I can break my hula hooping record. I need to get a video of it though; Steph never believes that I can go as long as I can; I don’t know why she doubts me.”

“Tim, you want to take this one?” Jason asked.

“A deny you the pleasure? Never.”

“Really, guys?” Dick questioned, looking back over his shoulder. “My hula hooping record is not a joke.”

“You’re a joke,” Jason retorted.

Dick should have expected that one.  

“I can record it for you, Dick.”

“Thank you, Cass. Cass is a good sister,” Dick said pointedly.

“Cass is a good everything,” Tim said dryly. “You really shouldn’t be comparing us to her.”

Cass just smiled, laughing and shaking her head.

“How long is your record exactly, Grayson?”

Dick smiled and opened his mouth to answer – he couldn’t believe Damian was actually interested! – but Tim cut him off.

“Wait, you actually care?”

“Obviously not. I just want to know how long we have to put up with this ridiculous activity.”

Dick’s face fell.

Of. Course.

“Now, now, children,” Jason said. “We should support Dick; this is the only thing he’s good at, so we shouldn’t make fun of him for it.”

“Grayson is more than adequate at plenty of things, Todd.”

“Thank you, Damian,” Dick said, smiling.

Damian nodded seriously. “While half of them are utterly pointless and hold no true value in real life, that doesn’t mean he isn’t good at them.”

Jason threw his head back, guffawing. Tim snickered. Bruce rolled his eyes, very much unsympathetic. Cass patted his shoulder. Dick just smiled and shook his head – as backhanded as it was, a compliment from Damian was a compliment.

His grinned and turned to look at the others when they arrived at the site. “All right, let’s go!”

“Ha ha, no,” Jason replied.

“Yes. All three of you.”

Dick wasn’t the only one gaping at Bruce. He was, however, the only one smiling at him after he got over the shock. Dick had no idea why Bruce was making the others participate, but he didn’t actually care.

“Great!” Dick exclaimed. “Come on, let’s grab our hoops before they start the next round!”

Tim shook his head. “I feel like this is punishment for something.”

Damian scoffed. “For you maybe, but I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Tim retorted.

Damian glared. “Father has his reasons.”

“Yeah,” Jason agreed. “He hates himself and is taking it out on us by making us _hula hoop_.”

Damian snarled silently at Jason, but Dick grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the hoops before things could escalate.

“Okay, let’s get our hoops. Here you go, Dami.”

Dick grabbed his hoop and handed one to Damian. Damian took it reluctantly, looking at him with pursed lips.

“What am I supposed to so with _this?”_

Dick blinked. Right. Damian didn’t know how to hula hoop.

“Oh! I’ll start, and you just copy me, okay? Jason, Tim, here.”

They took the hula hoops he passed him with little enthusiasm, but he didn’t stop grinning. He was totally going to show Steph.

“Cass, are you recording?”

She held up her phone and gave him a thumbs-up.

“All right, Dami, watch!”

Dick readied his hoop and waited for the signal from the judge timing the event.

“Ughh…” Jason groaned once Dick started hulaing.

Dick rolled his eyes and grinned. “Come on, Jaybird! It’s fun.”

“You keep saying the word ‘fun’, but you have no idea what it means.”

Dick ignored him. “Want to give it a try, Dami?”

Damian did _not_ want to give a try.

Neither did Tim, for that matter.

“Do you guys even know what participation is?” Dick asked wryly.

They ignored him.

Dick smiled at one of his competitors before turning to wave at Cass.

“This is so boring!”

Dick turned and shot a look at Jason. Jason ignored him, hefting his hula hoop repeatedly and shooting a thoughtful look at Tim.

That was a bad look.

Oh, and Dick was right.

“Hey, Tim, catch!”

Jason hurled the hoop at Tim, but he miscalculated – throwing a hula hoop wasn’t like throwing a batarang, go figure – and ended up hitting Damian right in the face.

( _This is going to end_ horribly.)

Dick exchanged a look with Tim before turning to Bruce and Cass.

Cass looked invested. Bruce looked like he was regretting forcing the others to participate, which was fair.

“Look, Damian-“

Damian didn’t care what Jason had to say; he snarled before lifting his hoop and charging at Jason. Jason stepped backwards hastily, knocking over a middle-aged man who he had probably just caused to break his hip.

This was why Tim had been concerned about lawsuits. Dick understood that now.

“Sorry,” Jason called out before stealing a 12-year old’s hula hoop, ignoring the girl’s protest and brandishing his weapon at Damian. “Damian. Be reasona- wait, who am I talking to?”

Their hoops clashed together. Jason grinned; Damian continued to snarl.

“You’ll pay for that, Todd!”

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Other contestants were diving out of their way as their battle continued; the judges looked at a complete loss.

Dick was also kind of at a loss – or, he would have been, except these were his brothers and he was honestly not sure what else he had been expecting.

Tim looked comical, standing there in his 3-piece suit, barely five-feet from Jason and Damian’s increasingly heated fight, holding a pink and orange striped hula hoop and staring up at the sky blankly, like he was mentally preparing to scold Superboy for taking so long to come save him.

Dick cracked a smile. He shouldn’t be enjoying this because it was horrible, but it was actually pretty funny. People were getting knocked down, and half of them looked more terrified than annoyed… but it was pretty funny.

“Ow!” Jason cried when Damian landed a hit below his knee. “Okay, you know what – truce! All right! Truce!”

“Not in a million years, Todd. Accept your fate like man.”

“No, no, no! Hear me out, okay?”

Damian was still in a fighting stance, but he had lowered his hoop slightly. “What? And talk quickly.”

“I was aiming for Tim. How about... we go after Tim. Together.”

Tim snapped back into reality with a jerk. “What.”

But it was too late: appealing to Damian’s eternal willingness to fight Tim was always foolproof.

Damian smirked, his anger falling away into the easy pleasure that characterized his actions whenever he was tormenting Tim.

“You have a deal, Todd.”

Tim looked at them in disbelief. “No.”

They ignored him and launched an attack coordinated enough that they could have been suited up.

Dick bit his lip as Tim worked to avoid their attacks, the three of them heedless of the surrounding crowd.

Bruce had his headache face on again, and Cass had stopped recording Dick to follow Jason, Damian, and Tim’s exploits. Dick couldn’t blame her. He kind of wanted to join in – he would, except he really needed to break his record.

“Fight back if you don’t want to die, Drake,” Damian taunted, swiping his hoop at Tim’s neck only for Tim to drop gracefully to the ground as he dodged it.

“Yeah, Tim,” Jason joined in, “your life is on the line here.”

Tim looked severely unimpressed, even as he barely avoided getting clocked on the side of the head by Jason. “Really? You’re going to kill me here. In front of dozens of people – hundreds, if you count everyone on campus.”

“You think I don’t know how to take care of witnesses?”

“He knows how to take care of witnesses, Tim.”

Dick huffed. He really didn’t think that was the argument that Damian should be making – like, at all – ever – but, on the other hand, it was nice to see Damian having fun.

Tim winced when Damian hit his shoulder, but just shot him an annoyed look. “You’re both insane. I’m not doing this.”

“Is it because you’re in a pretentious suit surrounded by pretentious people? Because you’re not above this, Timmers. You’re really not,” Jason said, grinning.

“You’re not above anything, Drake.”

Tim heaved a sigh, jumping over a swipe Damian made at his feet before smacking Jason clear across the face.

“Nice job, Timmy!”

“Shut up, Dick!” Jason shouted.

Dick beamed, he shouldn’t be encouraging this, but also, he really should. Because this? This was harmless. And hilarious. And they were all having fun. And there were hula hoops!

He’d known it would be a good idea to come to this thing!

“Damian, I’ll compensate you if you come to my side.”

Jason gaped at Tim in shock. Damian was also gaping. Dick barked out a surprised laughed.

( _Oh, that’s great, Tim!)_

“Hold up!” Jason protested. “You can’t just whack me in the face and then try to steal my partner!”

Well, apparently, he could, because, after a brief and disturbingly ominous silent conversation between Tim and Damian, Damian smirked.

“Very well, Drake. You _will_ be paying me as soon as we return to the Manor.”

“Obviously.”

Jason shook his head slowly. “E tu, Brute?”

“I got a better deal, Todd; it’s your own fault for failing to compensate me appropriately.”

“We were attacking Tim! How is that not appropriate compensation?”

“Some things are more important,” Tim snarked.

“Only just, Drake. Only just.”

The battle started again, more vicious than before, not that all of them were participating. And because Tim and Damian were unfairly terrifying on the rare occasions they decided to work together.

Dick glanced over at Cass with a smile, but frowned when he noticed Bruce wasn’t standing with her. He looked over his shoulder, grinning wryly when he saw Bruce charming the judges and various participants who had been forced to the sidelines due to the fight. That was a good idea – maybe Tim wouldn’t hound him about lawsuits after all.

Dick turned back to his brothers, still grinning, unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Jason.

“Okay, you know, what? You guys are horrible. Here I am, an innocent citizen of Gotham-“

“I’m trying to decide if that’s the most ridiculous thing he’s ever said, but there are so many instances, it’s hard to tell.”

“I’ve given up on trying to classify his insanity, Drake. It’s a lost cause.”

“Oh, ha ha. You guys think you’re so funny, but I know where you sleep.”

“That sounds like something an innocent citizen of Gotham would say,” Tim drawled sarcastically, aiming a particularly brutal strike at Jason’s neck.

“I feel like you’re both taking this too far,” Jason muttered and he ducked out of the way and stumbled backwards to avoid the shot Damian aimed at his legs.

Dick kept hulaling – he was the only one competing at this point, but that was fine; he wasn’t in it to _win_ , he was in it for the _record_ – but frowned slightly when he realized they were getting closer to him.

“Uh, do you guys maybe want go the other way? I mean, this is great and all – it’s nice to see the three of you bonding – but I’m in the middle of something important.”

They ignored him.

Typical.

Damian had a surprisingly lofty tone for someone who was trying to annihilate his older brother with a polka dotted hula hoop. “You shouldn’t have started a fight you weren’t willing to finish.”

“It’s a hula hoop fight!” Jason stated, entirely exasperated.

“A fight’s a fight, Jay,” Tim explained matter-of-factly.

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you channeling Damian right now? Is that what’s going on here?”

They were getting really close – really close. Dick tried to edge out of the way, and he definitely would have made it if Jason hadn’t tripped into him in his effort to escape Tim and Damian.

“Ow!” Dick cried, barely managing to catch himself before rolling out of Jason’s way so he didn’t get trapped under him. And how unfair was it that his little brother was bigger than him?

( _Wait a minute.)_

He was on the ground. His hula hoop was on the ground. He had stopped hulaing.

“NO!” Dick cried. “I was in the middle of breaking a record! I was so close; how could you?”

“It was in pursuit of the cause, Dick. We all have to make sacrifices,” Tim drawled, holding his hoop casually like it wasn’t some sort of weapon of mass destruction.

“Some things are more important, Grayson,” Damian added solemnly, raising his hoop above his head. “Goodbye, Todd.”

“What is my life?” Jason asked, staring up at the sky blankly from where he was sprawled on the ground.

Damian swung his hoop downwards with all the intent and gravitas of an executioner. Jason rolled out of the way at the last minute, only to be smacked in the face by Tim.

Jason came to a stop on his knees, clutching his face. “Seriously? What’s wrong with you? That’s the second time you’ve gotten me in the face!”

“Not like there’s any reason I should avoid it.”

“That’s cold, Tim,” Dick commented, getting back to his feet. “You know what else is cold? The fact that none of you care that you ruined my record!”

“Let it go,” Jason muttered, standing up. “They don’t have hearts. Food?”

Dick wanted to protest, but Tim and Damian were smirking and shaking hands in a disturbingly professional manner for two people who had just destroyed their older brother with hula hoops, so he really didn’t have it in him to do anything but smile.

“Fine,” Dick acquiesced. “We can get food, but Tim’s paying for mine because you guys ruined my hula record.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that,” Tim said dryly.

Dick just grinned and walked forward, slinging an arm around Tim’s shoulder. “You agreed in your heart.”

“Didn’t you hear? I don’t have one.”

Dick laughed, wrapping an arm around Cass as she walked over to where they were. “Jason’s just upset you smacked him in the face.”

“Twice!” Jason shouted.

“Grow up, Todd. You got what you deserved.”

“Brat.”

Dick grinned, winking at Bruce, who was staring at all of them, drastically unamused.

“Hey, you’ll send me that video, right, Cass?”

“I’m sending _everyone_ the video.”

“Please don’t,” Tim asked.

“Too late.”

Dick grinned. “Awesome.”

* * *

 

Tim adjusted his jacket, shooting a half-hearted glare over his shoulder.

Jason was busy mocking Bruce and Damian, so he didn’t notice.

“I can’t believe Jason did that,” Tim grumbled, straightening his tie. “A hula hoop fight, honestly.”

Dick blinked. “Why is that hard to believe?”

Tim shot a look at Dick, who was smiling at him. Why was he so happy? How was that fair? It wasn’t. In fact, Tim found Dick’s good mood obnoxious.

“What are you gonna’ tell Steph about your record?” Tim asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Dick’s smile dropped instantly.

Cass was shooting him a dry look, but Tim ignored it. He had just run around a grass field in a custom-made suit. There were _wrinkles._ He’d have to get his suit _dry-cleaned._

No one should be happy.

“Drake, what did you say to Grayson?” Damian demanded, looking between them with a scowl.

“I just asked a question,” Tim replied casually.

“Tim is spreading despair and pain because it’s all he knows how to do. He learned it from Bruce,” Jason said.

“Father did not-“

“Boys,” Bruce interrupted, face slightly pinched as he looked at them.

He probably need a massage. Or a break from them.

Cass slipped from under Dick’s arm and went to stand next to Bruce. “Take me to eat.”

“That’s what we’re doing,” Dick protested.

“Not here. The cafeteria.”

“Elitist,” Jason grumbled.

“I can’t eat carnival food without Steph,” Cass said with a shrug, tugging Bruce along with her.

He went with her easily enough; Tim couldn’t fault him.

Except he could. Because it was fine for him to leave, but how could he leave _Tim_?

Tim took a step in Bruce and Cass’s direction, but was immediately yanked backwards by an arm around his shoulder.

“Where do you think you’re going, Babybird?”

Tim stared balefully at Jason. “With the other Elitists.”

“Ha ha ha. No. You don’t get to escape.”

Tim sighed and wondered if this was payback- okay, it was definitely payback. Tim just wasn’t sure what it was payback _for_ ; there were so many options.

Jason dragged him over to where Damian and Dick were already wandering through the food stalls.

“Okay, what were you thinking, Jaybird?”

“Deep-fried corndogs. And everything else, since we’re here.”

Damian’s sneer was well-earned. For once. “You’re disgusting, Todd.”

“You can have cotton candy to satisfy your under-developed taste buds, brat.”

Dick interrupted in his typical, timely fashion, which was a shame, because that sounded like it was going somewhere great. “Look! They have soft-pretzels! You’ve got to try those, Dami.”

“No, I don’t.”

Tim shared a smirk with Jason.

Dick was full on pouting, which wasn’t exactly a surprise. “But, Little D, you’ll love it. I promise! Have I ever steered you wrong?”

“Low blow,” Jason muttered, snickering.

And it was. Because Damian was staring at Dick with a pained expression, arms crossed, lips twisted, and 5 seconds from giving in.

“Fine,” Damian muttered petulantly.

One would think that Tim got tired of being right, but that was not at all the case. Sure, he got a little bored by Damian’s predictability, but that was another matter entirely.

Dick grinned. “Okay! So, pretzels and corndogs and definitely cotton candy – did you want anything, Timmy?”

“Freedom,” he drawled.

“Something attainable,” Dick corrected.

Tim cocked his head.

( _Fair.)_

“Coffee.”

“You’re going to die,” Damian said plainly.

“Yeah,” Tim agreed easily. “But coffee’s not going to be what kills me.”

“I don’t think they sell coffee here. You’re out of luck, Timmers.”

Tim levelled a blank look at Jason. “I bet they sell coffee in the cafeteria.”

“Blah, blah, blah. You talk like I care what you say,” Jason responded, grinning.

“Todd makes a good point.”

“No!” Jason protested. “You don’t get to side with me after your unforgivable betrayal!”

“If you knew how to better incentivize-“

“Hurting Tim is the only incentive you need!”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Right. I’m going with Dick.”

Dick smiled. “This means you’re paying, right?”

Tim heaved a sigh. “I’m going to be paying for this _for weeks_.”

“It doesn’t take you that long to write a check, right?” Dick asked with a weak laugh.

Dick was completely ignoring the emotional trauma of having to write settlement checks. Tim hated settling. That sort of weakness could erode away at the infrastructure of their way of life.

Tim shuddered. “It’s not about the money, Dick. It’s not about the money.”

Dick grimaced. “How about chocolate covered things? Everybody loves chocolate! And it has caffeine!”

“Fine,” Tim conceded, lips pursed as Dick pulled him along through the rows of stalls.

“Okay, pretzels first, then something with chocolate.” Dick stepped up to the pretzel stall with a glowing smile. “Oh, look! They have chocolate dip! Uh, can we get one of the plain soft pretzels with chocolate dip, one with salt and cheese sauce, and one with cinnamon sugar and icing”

“Are you allowed to have that much sugar?” Tim asked with a half-smile, pulling out his wallet.

“I am a full-fledged adult and I can have as much sugar as I want,” he paused and gave Tim a wry smile. “As long as Alfred isn’t watching.”

“You set the best example.”

“None of you ever copy me anyway; I’m not worried.”

Tim shrugged as he handed the money to the vender. “That’s sound logic.”

“Don’t sound so surprised!” Dick said, grinning as he reached for the food.

Well, Tim was using the word “food” loosely.

“This is so unhealthy.”

“Weren’t you just planning on getting coffee – and only coffee – for lunch?”

Tim rolled his eyes as they walked towards the seating area. “You say that like coffee is unhealthy.”

Dick arched an eyebrow.

“Coffee has a number of health benefits,” Tim pointed out, taking a seat at the first available bench.

“Not the way you drink it,” Dick countered, setting the food down and sitting across from him.

“I’m a victim of my upbringing,” Tim said with a shrug.

“Are you talking about the fact that you’re an emotionless bastard?” Jason asked as he approached them.

“I’m talking about the fact that I got my coffee-habit from Bruce.”

Jason snorted. “Even he doesn’t drink as much as you do.”

“We’re supposed to surpass our parents,” Tim countered deliberately, eyes shifting over to Damian.

His face was screwed up and his chest was puffed out; there was probably nothing about Tim’s statement that didn’t offend Damian.

Unfortunately, Tim’s comment, purposefully crafted to elicit one of Damian’s patented “blood son” speeches, supplemented by the ever-popular “no one can be as good as Father” speech – they were so much fun to pick apart – was wasted when Dick spoke.

“What happened to the cotton candy?”

Jason stared at Dick like he was an idiot before jerking a thumb at Damian, who was grumbling and crossing his arms. “Damian took _exception_.”

Tim stared. “Why couldn’t I have been there for that?”

“Because you’re a traitor and you don’t deserve nice things,” Jason said firmly. “We can’t sit here. There’s no mustard here. There’s ketchup and barbecue sauce and steak sauce – which, what the heck, where are they selling steak? – but there’s no mustard. I can’t have a deep-fried corn dog without mustard.”

“What a shame,” Damian drawled, sitting down next to Dick. “You can’t have food callously named after a house pet.”

Dick ruffled Damian’s hair with a grin before turning to Jason. “I think the steak sauce is for burgers; they’re selling those.”

Tim rolled his eyes. Again. He was going to sprain something. “Wow, Jason. It’s not like you can just take a bottle of mustard from another table.”

“Wow, Tim. I’m sorry my first instinct isn’t to steal and deprive other people of things.”

“You stole a little girl’s hula hoop!” Dick cried.

“Tires,” Tim said plainly.

“Really, Todd? Really?”

Jason smirked as he walked over to the closest empty table and snagged the mustard. He walked back and dropped down onto the bench next to Tim.

“So,” Tim began, “what exactly happened with the cotton candy?”

Jason’s lips quirked as he shook the mustard bottle. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“Bring it.”

“There’s nothing to _bring,_ ” Damian growled.

“Your perspective is irrelevant,” Tim stated.

“Eat your pretzel, brat.”

“Ignore them, Dami,” Dick said with a sigh. “They won’t stop no matter what you say.”

“Look at that wisdom, Tim. Look at it.”

“I’m so impressed,” Tim drawled.

Damian glared, but Dick just shook his head.

“You really should try your pretzel, Dami.”

“Exactly,” Jason agreed. “Now, where was I?”

“Cotton candy,” Tim reminded him.

“Excuse me!”

They all turned to look at the person who had spoken.

It was a kid, younger than Damian, and he looked supremely pissed off.

Whatever this was, it was going to be fantastic.

Tim pulled out his phone and discreetly began recording.

“Can we help you?” Dick asked, smiling and leaning forward.

The kid was surprisingly immune to Dick’s charms. He pointed past Dick, glaring at Jason. “You stole the mustard!”

“Oh, my gosh,” Tim intoned.

Jason shot a look at him that clearly said “this is your fault”.

Tim cocked an eyebrow challengingly.

“HEY!” the kid demanded.

Jason turned back to him. “What?”

“Jason!” Dick cried incredulously.

“Give it back!”

“No!”

“If you don’t give it back, you’re going to go to jail; stealing is wrong!”

Jason slammed the table. “I’m not going to jail!”

The kid stomped his foot. “Jail! Jail! Jail!”

Tim had to give the kid props for accidentally hitting on Jason’s insecurities and running with it.

“Jason,” Dick began, a little desperately, “just give back the mustard!”

“I stole it fair and square!”

“JAIL!”

“Little Wing, please!”

Tim was honestly a little in disbelief – partly because this was happening, and partly because he had just shared a genuinely commiserating look with Damian.

“JAIL! JAIL! JAIL!”

“It was his idea!” Jason snapped, pointing at Tim.

Tim looked at Jason, torn between incredulity and amusement that Jason was selling his _brother_ out. To a _kid_. Over _mustard._

“JAIL! You’re both going to jail! Batman’s going to send you to jail!”

Dick looked somewhere between horrified and amused.

Damian was smirking, but, for once, Tim couldn’t blame him. This was incredible.

Jason sneered. “Batman’s not good enough to put me in jail.”

The kid stomped his foot, glaring fiercely. “Yes, he is. You’re both going to jail and you’ll die there!”

“You know what?” Jason began.

“What?” The kid responded, purely combative.

“Jason! What are you doing!? I’ve been looking everywhere for you! I-“ a woman walked up to their table, stopping in her tracks when she saw them. “Oh my- I’m so sorry. Has he been bothering you? Jason!”

“He stole the mustard, Ms. Wheeler!”

“Look, this kid just came up here and started hurling outrageous accusations-“

“He’s a LIAR!”

“Jason Winston Gabriel! We do not call people liars and we do not accuse them of stealing!”

“But he-“

“No! Apologize right now. Now!”

Tim watched in a strange state of suspended glee as the younger Jason’s face contorted into, quite honestly, the most disturbing expression Tim had ever seen.

“Sorry,” he gritted out, sounding not at all apologetic, before stomping off without a backwards glance.

“Oh- Jason!” Ms. Wheeler turned to them. “I am… so sorry. So sorry. So, so sorry. Jason!”

The four of them watched as she ran after her charge. Tim was fairly sure the general mood was awe-struck. Even Damian looked captivated.

“Well,” Tim said, turning his phone off and looking over at Jason before affecting a thoughtful tone. “Well.”

“Shut up, Tim,” Jason ordered, somewhere between a laugh and a glare.

“Why should he?” Damian asked loftily. “After all, your namesake-“

“He’s not my namesake!”

Damian shot Jason a judgmental look.

Tim grinned at the exchange, offering a smirk at the bemused smile Dick shot at him.

“You know what?” Jason started. “Why don’t you eat a corndog? Maybe you’ll stop being a jerk.”

And then Jason waved his corndog in Damian’s face, baring his teeth mockingly.

Damian, predictably, took the provocation _badly._

“Get that monstrosity out of my face, Todd!” he snarled, snatching the corndog from Jason with a harsh tug.

“Your hand is touching it! I can’t eat that! Look at this!” Jason cried, turning to Tim and Dick for sympathy.

He should have known looking to Tim was a lost cause, honestly; Tim had turned his cellphone back on as soon as Jason had started harassing Damian.

Dick looked vaguely troubled, which Tim would admit was probably wise.

And here Tim was. Being right. Again.

Damian darted forward, leaning across the table to smash the corndog into Jason’s chest.

Dick let out a strange sound that Tim didn’t care enough about to decipher.

How could he devote any time to that when Damian had just started a food fight? With Jason?

Jason looked at the crumbs and grease stain on his shirt before looking at Damian, who had settled back into his seat with a triumphant grin.

Oh, did he think this was over? How naïve.

“Did you just stab me in the heart with my own corndog.”

It wasn’t a question, but Damian didn’t really _do_ tonal cues, so…

“Yes,” he affirmed, viciously pleased.

Jason nodded slowly. And then he threw his second corndog straight between Damian’s eyes.

The absolute shock on Damian’s face would make anything that happened for the rest of the day worth it.

Dick let out a laugh before shaking his head furiously. “No. Nope! Okay, let’s get you cleaned up, Damian. You want a napkin?” Dick grabbed a handful of napkins from the basket at the center of the table and proffered them to Damian urgently. “Here, you should wipe that off your fa- no! Damian, you’re better than this!”

“Don’t lie to him, Dick,” Tim said, watching delightedly as Damian picked up his pretzel deliberately and brandished it at Jason.

Jason smirked.

Damian reached forward and smashed his pretzel against Jason’s head so hard it broke apart. Damian sneered at his, now useless, weapon, apparently disappointed in a soft pretzel’s unsuitability as an object to cause blunt force trauma.

While Damian despaired of his choice in weapon, Jason snatched the chocolate sauce Tim hadn’t even started using and held it upside down over Damian’s hair.

“Gah!” Damian exclaimed, intensely horrified by the cholate dripping its way down his face.

“Not the chocolate sauce!” Dick despaired.

Tim wasn’t even mad that Jason had taken it from him without asking.

“That’s what you get for-“

Jason’s gloating was cut off when Damian smashed his cheese sauce against the bridge of Jason’s nose, crushing the condiment cup.

“Oh, the cheese sauce!”

Tim gave Dick a curious look, but figured his oldest brother was choosing to focus on the loss of food to avoid losing his sanity. It was probably the healthiest coping mechanism any of them had ever employed.

Jason pursed his lips before stealing Tim’s pretzel and whacking Damian in the face with it.

“I’d eat that, but I don’t know where your face has been.”

“I know exactly where your face has been,” Damian retorted.

Jason cocked his head quizzically.

“He means you were dead. And your face was underground,” Tim explained.

Jason shook his head. “I’m kind of worried that you can translate that.”

“What else could he have meant, Jason? Damian’s not exactly creative.”

Damian ignored Tim’s insult to look for more ammunition, which just meant that Tim had wasted his breath. Dick noticed Damian’s intentions and clutched his food closer, shying away from Damian warily.

“Ha! That means I win,” Jason declared with a grin.

Damian snarled wordlessly before snatching the mustard bottle up and squirting it at Jason.

Or, more accurately in Jason’s direction.

Because, yes, Jason’s face and most of his shirt did end up covered is mustard, but Damian’s haphazard assault also made Tim a victim.

Tim doubted Damian was sorry.

“Oh! The mustard! No…” Dick looked horrified, but he was also laughing.

Jason’s face was blank as he slowly wiped the mustard off of his face with his hands, smearing the excess off onto the table.

“Well played,” he acknowledged before reaching for the ketchup.

“No!” Dick protested, leaning forward and sliding all 3 condiment bottles towards him. He grabbed the mustard from Damian and then hugged all four bottles – along with his pretzel and icing – to his chest. “I am not getting hit.”

“You couldn’t have done that sooner?” Tim griped, turning his phone off and grabbing a wad of napkins to wipe the mustard off of it and dab at the stains forming on his suit. He didn’t even care about the mustard on his face.

“Buzzkill,” Jason muttered, grabbing his own napkins and passing some to Damian, who took them with a smirk.

“I win.”

“Shut up.”

“This is never going to come out,” Tim grumbled.

“Oh, so you don’t know how to get mustard stains out? And here I was thinking you knew everything.”

Tim glared at Jason. “I only know the useful things. Like how to get blood stains out.”

Damian huffed amusedly.

Tim stared at him.

Damian stared back.

They shared disgusted looks before turning away from each other.

Tim couldn’t believe he’d said something that had made Damian laugh; he was a disgrace. He didn’t even deserve to get the stains out of his suit.

“You know, I think the real reason you two fight is because you’re so alike,” Dick said, nodding in agreement with himself.

“No one asked you,” Tim muttered.

“You sound like an idiot, Grayson. Or worse: like Todd.”’

“You know what?” Jason asked mock heatedly. “You’re a sore winner and a horrible person.”

“And here’s Jason, everyone, saying things we already know,” Tim commented idly, grabbing more napkins and glaring at Dick who was still as pristine as when they had arrived.

“Shut up, Tim.”

“Is that all you know how to say?” Tim shot back.

“He has a limited vocabulary, Drake; you expect too much.”

“I know more words than all of you!”

“Sit down, Jaybird, you’re making a scene!”

They all turned to Dick, incredulous. He shrugged unrepentantly and began eating his pretzel.

“Does anyone else think this is really unfair?” Tim questioned.

“Yes,” Jason agreed.

Damian snorted.

“What happened here?”

They all looked to the source of the question, only to find a wide-eyed Cass and a dead-eyed Bruce staring at them.

“Food fight,” Dick explained plainly.

Tim shrugged. “It was less of a food fight and more Damian and Jason taking turns putting food on each other.”

“Todd started it,” Damian offered.

“Lies and slander.”

Bruce sighed heavily.

Cass just grinned at them. “It’s my turn to pick.”

“Joy,” Damian groused.

Tim grabbed the last of the napkins, looking down at his suit hopelessly.

( _My thoughts exactly.)_


	4. The 3 Legged Race and Eggs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. 
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world.

“Okay,” Grayson started, clapping his hands and looking them over as they walked out of the school building after their trip to the bathroom. “Everyone clean?”

“Define clean,” Drake muttered, shooting a muted glare at Damian.

Damian cocked an eyebrow, unapologetic. “You were a necessary casualty, Drake.”

“You are so predictable,” he grumbled in response.

“You know what else is predictable?” Todd interjected.

As if anyone wanted to hear what he had to say.

Todd must have realized that because he didn’t wait for anyone to show interest. “This whole situation. Frankly, this is what you get for wearing a suit. Even _Bruce_ is in jeans.”

Drake stared at Todd blankly before turning away.

“What was that?” Todd cried.

“I’m being the bigger person,” Drake said casually, linking arms with Cain who was grinning as she looked between the two of them.

Damian hated to admit it, but he was impressed by Drake’s psychological manipulation. In spite of how obvious the tactic was, it was incredibly effective.

Todd spluttered uselessly, staring at Drake’s back before turning to Grayson. “Can you believe that guy? This is your fault, Bruce.”

Father didn’t respond beyond rolling his eyes.

“See! That, right there. Why the heck would you teach him something like that?”

Grayson started laughing, patting Todd on the shoulder sympathetically. “It’s okay, Little Wing. Tim can only keep this up for so long.”

“That’s surprisingly comforting.”

Damian rolled his eyes at the interaction before sighing. “What are we doing next?”

Grayson gasped. “Are you finally looking forward to this, Dami?”

“No,” Damian shot him down bluntly.

Things hadn’t been so bad for a while – attacking Drake and Todd had been an interesting diversion – but getting covered in chocolate sauce had made the day undeniably worse.

Though he would admit to himself that seeing Todd and Drake covered in mustard had been amusing.

Grayson pouted, but looked to Cain for the answer. “Where are we going, Cass?”

Cain smiled and tugged Drake with her to the front of the group. “We’re racing.”

Drake groaned. “I’m going to sit this one out.”

“You can’t,” Cain replied. “It’s a 3-legged race; we need even numbers.”

Drake’s tortured expression, accompanied as it was by the bright grin on Grayson’s face, sent chills of foreboding through Damian.

“Good choice, Cass!”

“Do you hate me?” Drake asked.

“Wait!” Todd exclaimed. “Does this mean Bruce is joining in?”

There was an undertone of unholy glee in Todd’s voice that made Damian feel sympathetic for his father.

Or, it would have, if Father hadn’t forced him to participate in _hula hooping_ earlier. Regardless of the favorable outcome, it had been a cruel betrayal.

“Cass,” Father began.

“You can be on my team,” Cain said, smiling unrepentantly.

Father sighed heavily. “All right.”

“Really?” Todd grunted. “That’s blatant favoritism.”

“From who?” Grayson asked, amused.

“Both of them,” Todd declared.

“And?” Drake questioned dryly.

“I don’t always have to have a point, Tim.”

“Then why torture us by speaking?” Damian quipped.

Todd nodded, pursing his lips. “You know what, Damian? Just for that, you can team up with Tim.”

“What.”

Damian didn’t even care that he and Drake had offered the same implicit objection.

It was ignored, anyway.

“You know,” Grayson began, that incessant grin only getting bigger, “I was going to pair up with Dami-“

“ _Surprise, surprise_ ,” Todd interrupted.

Grayson continued, undaunted. “But this is even better.”

Damian stared at Grayson uncomprehendingly.

( _How could he?)_

This was just a day of betrayals.

“Bruce, are you planning on intervening any time soon?”

If there was one thing Damian and Drake could agree on, it was the fact that they should never work together – at least not more than once a day.

“Yes, Father, do something!”

“The last time I did something, you started beating each other up with hula hoops. I think I’ll stay out of it.”

Betrayal after betrayal after _betrayal._

“Father, how could you?” Damian demanded quietly.

He just shrugged, smiling slightly.

Todd exchanged grins with Grayson and Cain, leaving Damian to share a look of horror with Drake.

Damian didn’t even know what a _3-legged race_ was, but considering it was a school activity and he had to team up with _Drake_ for it, he knew that this event would be worse than anything he had experienced so far.

“Cue the chaos,” Todd commented reverently when they arrived at the event.

“You’re horrible,” Grayson muttered fondly.

“You supported me in this. So did Bruce. Which means the both of you are horrible too.” Todd paused, cocking his head. “That’s honestly not anything we didn’t already know.”

For once, Damian didn’t have any objections.

He stared at the people gathered for the activity with a sneer.

And then he saw two of them grabbing a cloth from a box and tying their legs together.

( _No.)_

“Absolutely not. I’m not doing this,” Damian protested. “I believe both Drake and I are fine with sitting this event out.”

Drake nodded firmly.

“Hmm…” Todd began, mock thoughtful. “Is- is that an option?”

Grayson clicked his tongue. “No, you know, I don’t think it is. Cass?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not.”

“Tt. Traitors.”

“You know who doesn’t get to say that? You! You traitored me first!”

“Oh, grow up, Todd! At least I got something out of it.”

“And I’m getting something out of this!”

“What could you possibly gain from _this?”_ Damian spat harshly.

“Entertainment.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Drake grumbled, motioning for Damian to follow him.

Damian wanted to argue, but when Drake passed him, there was a look on his face that made Damian comply with only a small grunt of displeasure.

“Grab 2 extra!” Grayson called as they walked towards the box with the cloths.

“What are you planning?” Damian asked as soon as they were far enough away from the others not to be overheard.

“It doesn’t really matter if we win,” Drake started, “as long as Jason and Dick lose.”

“Sabotage?” Damian clarified with a smirk.

“What else?”

Damian hummed in agreement. “What are you thinking so far?”

“I don’t have any concrete plans,” Drake admitted with a shrug, leaning forward to grab three strips of cloth from the box provided. “I just know I want them to fail by any means necessary.”

“Explosives?” Damian suggested.

Drake cocked his head, considering. “…No. Better save those for later. What else do you have on you?”

“A bolo, a bolo knife, a switch blade, and a marker.”

Drake shot him a steady look. “Do you think other non-metas carry as many weapons on their off-days as we do?”

Damian sneered. “Not if they stupidly think we get _off-days_.”

Drake sneered back. “I have brass knuckles, a taser, 11 zip ties, shark repellent, and scissors.”

Damian twisted his lips; that _was_ fairly impressive. Still. “Scissors?”

“You never know when you’re going to have to cut something without looking suspicious,” he said, walking back towards the others.

Damian followed, arching an eyebrow, though Drake wouldn’t be able to see it. “Carrying scissors _is_ suspicious.”

“Bolo knife and switch blade,” Drake countered plainly.

Damian shrugged, conceding the point. He frowned slightly when they reached the rest of the family; he couldn’t believe this was happening.

Sabotaging Grayson and Todd’s chances was less than the two of them deserved.

“Here,” Drake said, handing pieces of cloth to Father and Grayson.

Grayson held up his strip with an incredulous expression. “Really, Timmy? You tied it in a knot?”

“That’s petty,” Todd said, smirking.

“All right, everyone! Line up; the race is about to start!”

Grayson looked over at the announcer, unduly alarmed. “All right, Jaybird, let’s go grab a new one. We have to hurry.”

“We really don’t,” Todd replied, following along anyway.

Damian walked with Drake to the starting line, standing a few teams down from Father and Cain.

“It’s embarrassing that they think that’s all we’re planning,” Drake commented coolly.

“You’ve finally come up with something then?”

Drake rolled his eyes, but nodded as he bent down to tie their ankles together; the two of them grimaced simultaneously.

“Well, what did come up with?” Damian demanded.

“I tied the knot so that if we tug our ankles apart hard enough, the cloth will loosen and you can step out of it.”

“I imagine we’ll be disqualified.”

“Of course, but the point isn’t to _beat_ Dick and Jason: it’s to make them suffer.”

Damian hummed in accord. “So, what comes after that?”

“Well, we need to stay in the race up until we’re close enough to Dick and Jason that we can catch them off guard. We pull apart and tackle them – you take Dick, I’ll take Jason – and zip tie their hands. Here, take one.”

Damian eagerly accepted the zip tie that Drake passed him. “ _And_?”

“Well, you’ve got a marker, and I’ve actually got a gel pen here. We draw on their faces, take pictures, and distribute them throughout the community.”

Damian smirked. “I like this plan.”

“I _did_ come up with it.”

“Which is why I’m so surprised that I approve.”

Drake snorted before straightening his stance when Grayson and Todd lined up next to them.

“We’re going to take you guys down,” Todd said. “You know, if you don’t take each other down first.”

“If you say so, Jason.”

Todd scowled at Drake and then at Grayson. “I thought you said it wouldn’t last!”

“It won’t! Be patient, Little Wing.”

“All right!” the event officiator shouted. “On your marks, get set, go!”

Damian and Drake didn’t even have a chance to take a single step:

Grayson and Todd fell over each other, landing on the ground face-first.

( _This is glorious.)_

Damian looked at Drake, only to find the same awed expression Damian was sure was gracing his own face. The two of them looked back at their older brothers, exchanging awe for amusement.

“Jason, what the heck? I thought we said middle leg first!”

“No, you said middle leg first and I said that was stupid!”

“But you didn’t clarify that you wanted to do outer legs first!”

“If I said middle leg was stupid, that meant I wasn’t doing it!”

“You do stupid stuff all the time!”

“Well,” Damian drawled, causing both of them to look up at him. “This is _painfully_ ironic.”

“Literally,” Drake added. “Shall we?”

Damian nodded, stepping out of their bindings before taking out his zip tie. “You brought this on yourself, Grayson.”

“Uh, Damian, what are you doing with that?”

Damian didn’t bother responding, grabbing the arm Grayson had started to prop himself up with. That threw his older brother off balance long enough for Damian to grab his other arm and tie his hands together.

“Oh my gosh,” Grayson muttered. “This is why we never pair them together.”

Damian looked up to see that Drake had been much less gentle, planting a foot on Todd’s back and wrenching his arms back mercilessly.

“Seriously, Tim? Seriously! It was supposed to be funny!”

“It is,” Drake confirmed, tightening the zip tie before reaching into his suit and pulling out his scissors.

“What are you doing with those?” Grayson asked apprehensively.

Drake rolled his eyes and crouched down, cutting the cloth binding Grayson and Todd together. “Scissors,” he said.

“Tt. Knives are better,” Damian asserted, leaning down and rolling Grayson over.

“Ow!”

“It’s your own fault,” Damian said.

“Dami, do you really want to do… this?”

“Yes,” Damian replied, pulling out his marker and writing on Grayson’s face determinedly.

Grayson grinned wryly. “Well, it could be worse.”

Drake looked up from his work on Todd’s face, lips quirking in amusement. “’Robin is better than Nightwing’? Simple, but effective.”

Damian snorted, smirking as he eyed Todd’s new look. “’The Original Replacement’. Fitting.”

“Are you freaking kidding me?” Todd questioned, looking somewhere between outraged and impressed. “There is something wrong with you.”

“On the bright side: Tim is no longer the bigger person,” Grayson said, snickering slightly.

“I beg to differ,” Drake said, pulling out his phone and taking close ups of Grayson and Todd’s face with a rare, blinding grin.

“Why don’t you shut up, Tim? And you too, Dick, because this never would have happened if you’d gone _outer leg.”_

“We agreed on middle leg!”

“No, _we_ didn’t.”

“This is sad.”

“This is justice,” Damian retorted, nodding at Cain as she and his father approached, Cain clutching a small plastic trophy to her chest.

“Oh, you guys won!” Grayson cried. “Nice job!”

“Why are you even surprised?” Todd groused.

“You do realize you could have prevented this,” Drake said, raising an eyebrow at Father.

He sighed heavily. “No, I couldn’t have.”

Drake cocked his head and looked at Damian thoughtfully. Damian shrugged.

“No, you probably couldn’t have,” Drake conceded. “But you could have tried.”

“Are you going to let them up?” Cain asked.

“Tt, no.”

“I feel like this is a good place for them.”

“Let your brothers up,” Father intoned before pasting on a grin and waving at passerby who were staring.

Why couldn’t people mind their own business? It wasn’t like Damian was butting into their mundane lives.

“So, you intervene on their behalf?” Drake inquired archly, though he acquiesced and bent down to cut the zip ties off of Todd and Grayson.

“Only because you’re making a scene.”

“What do you mean ‘making’?” Todd asked, standing up with a glare. “They made a scene. A scene was made.”

“Are we done here?” Father questioned, ignoring Todd.

“I think we caused the required amount of chaos,” Grayson offered wryly. He smiled and walked closer, ruffling Damian’s hair. “Nice one, Little D.”

Damian snorted, smirking.

“If you ruffle my hair, I will ruin your life,” Drake said, shooting a judgmental look at Todd.

“I’m never going near you. Ever.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Yes! And if you’re falling off a building you had better hope that someone else will be there to catch you – oh wait, we share a route!”

Drake’s lips quirked as he motioned to Todd’s forehead. “I think he has some inadequacy issues he needs to work on.”

“You’re inadequate,” Todd shot back.

“Witty and scathing. How will I ever recover?”

“This is not the end,” Todd stated.

“That was a _little_ dramatic, Jaybird.”

Todd gestured to his face.

“Fair enough,” Grayson responded. “So, where to next guys?”

Damian sighed, but didn’t bother making a fuss.

After all, these events had been surprisingly satisfying.

* * *

 

“You know,” Dick said idly, rubbing at his cheek and pulling his hand away to look at his fingers, “I don’t think this is ever going to come off.”

“Now you know how it feels,” Tim replied.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Not everything is about your suit, Tim.”

“I’d agree, except you’re wrong.”

Jason shook his head, but decided to just let it go. “You’re useless, you know that? Your suit gets a _little_ dirty and all you do is complain. Blah, blah, blah. No one cares!”

Well, he was sort of letting it go.

“You know what, Jason?”

Jason didn’t like Tim’s tone. “Didn’t I just say that no one cares?”

Tim smirked. “You’re right. No one cares what I have to say. But a picture’s worth a thousand words, so I don’t have to waste my breath, do I?”

Dick snickered. “He’s got a point, Jason.”

“You’re not appropriately enraged by this situation, so your input is invalid.”

“You’re not either,” Cass pointed out with a smile.

He didn’t have anything to say to that because it was true. He was mostly just amused. Slightly disturbed that this was the second time in one day that Tim and Damian had teamed up to bring him down, sure. But he was mostly amused.

Jason swiped at his forehead with a half-smile that turned to a scowl when his fingers came away clean. “Who even let you have _fast-drying_ gel pens? Where did you _find_ them?”

Tim cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t underestimate my stationary collection.”

Jason stared at Tim blankly.

( _This_ is Red Robin _.)_

“I think it’s official, everyone: Tim is the least menacing one out of all of us.”

“Tt. As usual, Todd, you seem unable to offer any _new_ information.”

Tim scoffed. “I’m sorry, which one of us was caught petting a stray dog – on camera _–_ by a civilian?”

“Only you would equate the proper appreciation and care for harmless animals with a lack of menace.”

“Yeah, no, I’m definitely not the only person who does that.”

“Which just goes to illustrate how little you understand the concept of striking terror into others.”

The look Tim shot Damian was so utterly unimpressed that Jason couldn’t help cracking a grin.

“And, once again, all is right with the world,” he stated, as the two continued to shoot vaguely hostile looks at each other.

“It was nice while it lasted,” Dick commented.

Jason looked at Dick like he was crazy, which, fun fact, he _was_. “Am I the only one who remembers being attacked by the two of them 5 minutes ago?”

“Well, yeah, they attacked us. But they did it _together_ , Jason. That’s what really matters here.”

Jason turned to Bruce sharply. “Look what you did. Look at him. You did that.”

Bruce looked like he regretted it, too. Though that might have been a general look of regret that all of them weren’t clones of Cass.

Honestly, the world would be a much better place if everyone was a clone of Cass.

But that wasn’t the case, so Bruce should stop being a baby and take responsibility for the fact that he’d hand-crafted a bunch of messed of people.

“Who’s turn is it to choose?”

They all turned to Cass in surprise.

Oh, right. They were supposed to be doing something else.

“I veto everything that ends in me getting attacked again,” Jason stated.

“I guess we should be leaving then,” Damian sniped, crossing his arms.

“Ha ha ha. Yeah, sorry, Tim, he’s definitely got the menacing down better than you.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Menace isn’t defined as pure homicidal intent, Jason.”

“That’s fair.”

Dick grinned and clapped his hands, interrupting them. “I think it’s Damian’s turn to choose. Dami, any ideas?”

Damian arched an eyebrow before predictably offering, “Didn’t I just say we should leave?”

Dick seemed to be shocked by this turn of events, which was really his own fault. “But we’re having so much fun!”

Damian gave a longsuffering sigh, but didn’t otherwise protest. Not that he needed to.

Dick pressed forward regardless. “Okay, well, Tim! You haven’t suggested anything. Thoughts?”

Tim looked steadily at Dick. “Do they have a suit cleaning game?”

“Are you serious?” Jason barked a laugh. “Buy a new suit!”

“It’s not about the suit. It’s the principle of the matter, Jason – not that you would understand that.”

“I thought it was about the suit,” Cass murmured, smiling.

“It’s definitely about the suit,” Jason replied.

“It’s a $3000 suit, Jason!”

“Then you shouldn’t have worn it!”

“Funnily enough, when I turned on the weather channel today, the forecaster didn’t say anything about mustard,” Tim drawled.

“The weather girl on channel 5 is crap anyway.”

“She gives thorough and accurate reports, Jason.”

“She doesn’t tell jokes and her name is boring.”

“Oh, well, if that’s the criteria.”

“It is.”

“You’re both children,” Damian cut in with a judgmental scowl.

“Sorry for acting your age,” Tim snarked.

“Okay!” Dick shouted, clapping a bit more desperately than he had before. “Bruce? Suggestions?”

_(Bruce?)_

Yeah, he was definitely desperate if he was asking _Bruce_ suggestions.

Everyone had joined Jason in staring incredulously at Dick, except for Cass, who was staring at him pityingly, which might have been worse.

“No,” Bruce stated.

Dick sagged, but didn’t look like he had expected anything else, so he wasn’t _totally_ insane. “Right, okay, so I guess that means it’s my turn again.”

“I object,” Jason said firmly.

“On what grounds?” Dick huffed.

“Two words: _middle leg._ ”

“We agreed-“

“If we had agreed, our faces wouldn’t be covered in _completely ridiculous_ messages!”

“Those messages are entirely accurate, Todd.”

“Uh, yes they would be. You don’t think we were counting on you two to fail on your own, do you? We had a plan,” Tim asserted.

“My point,” Jason continued, ignoring his utterly unhelpful younger brothers, “is that you have proven time and time again that your ideas are horrible and awful and should not be listened to under any circumstances.”

“Bruce.”

“Why do you keep looking to him for help? He can’t save you from your own inadequacy!”

“That’s true,” Tim concurred. “Look at how badly that worked out for Jason.”

Damian snorted. “One of Father’s only failures.”

“What did you have in mind, Dick?”

Dick shot Bruce a grateful look but Jason only shook his head. Bruce was being really arbitrary about the times he chose to intervene. As in, he never intervened when it was absolutely necessary.

Like when Jason was getting attacked.

Or when his face was being _graffitied._

“There’s an egg balance,” Dick said eagerly, apparently blocking the last few minutes out of his mind in order to retain his embarrassing enthusiasm.

“That sounds fun,” Cass said.

“Doesn’t it?”

“Actually, it sounds like a disaster. Tim, let the record reflect that I think this sounds like a disaster.”

“This whole day is a disaster,” Tim responded wryly.

“That’s accurate.”

“Come on, Jay, Timmy! You guys are having fun, right?”

Jason shrugged ambiguously. “I never said disasters couldn’t be fun. That’s not on the record.”

“ _Obviously_ ,” Damian began sarcastically, “haven’t you seen how needlessly he blows up buildings? He enjoys reckless catastrophe.”

“At least I don’t terrorize people for the fun of it,” Jason shot back.

“Yeah, you do,” Dick countered, amused.

“Okay, sometimes, but never with Damian’s zeal.”

“That would be impossible,” Dick agreed, brow furrowing slightly.

“Egg balance?” Tim reminded.

“Getting into it, Timmy?”

“Not you too, Cass.”

She shrugged. “I’m having fun.”

And Dick’s day had officially been made. He also seemed to be infused with 1000 times more energy, which would be funny except he was using it to make them _balance eggs_.

“All right, people, let’s go!” Dick commanded, waving his pamphlet in the air and leading them to their next activity.

“I’m not the only one that thinks this is ridiculous considering what we do at night, right?” Jason questioned.

“That is legitimately the worst euphemism possible.”

Jason snorted. “Shut up, Tim.”

Dick looked at him with a grin. “That was pretty bad, Jay.”

“I have worse.”

“Keep them to yourself, Todd.”

“ _Please_ ,” Bruce muttered.

“Oh, so you support Damian’s creative efforts, but not mine?”

“That would be because _I_ have talent.”

“He’s got you there,” Cass said, chuckling slightly.

Jason put a hand over his heart, grinning. “Wow, Cass. Wow. That cuts deep.”

“Not deep enough,” Damian quipped.

“Is there nothing you can’t twist into some sort of murderous threat?” Tim asked dryly.

“Of course, there isn’t, Drake.”

“Oh, Dami,” Cass murmured fondly, patting his head.

“It’s kind of impressive, if you think about it in a certain way,” Dick suggested, shrugging with the sort of aplomb of someone who had given up on winning this battle.

“I try not to think about it at all,” Tim replied.

“Probably because most of his threats are aimed at you,” Jason pointed out.

“Actually, I think you’ve gotten more death threats than I have today.”

Jason gave a snort and smirked challengingly. “Well, today’s not exactly a normal day, is it?”

Tim cocked his head before nodding. “Touché.”

Jason nodded, swinging an arm around Tim’s shoulder. “So, 10 bucks that Cass wins this whole thing.”

“How about no because I’m not stupid? She’s obviously going to win. If you want to make a bet put it on second place,” Tim chided.

Jason rolled his eyes, but conceded the point with a wink in Cass’s direction. “Hmm. Well, it’s definitely not going to be Damian.”

Damian snarled at him, crossing his arms. “I could win if I wanted to, Todd.”

“Do you even know what an egg balance is?”

Damian shot him an unimpressed look. “It’s a competition to see who can balance an egg on its side the fastest. Obviously.”

“That’s the most boring thing I’ve ever heard,” Jason responded, not even bothering to correct Damian.

Dick did it for him anyway, so he didn’t need to.

“No, Dami, an egg balance is when you put an egg on a spoon and race across a field and put the egg in a basket and then go back to the starting line and repeat the process again until time’s up. The person with the most eggs in their basket wins. If you drop your egg, you have to start back at the beginning.”

Damian’s expression of vague disgust mixed with disbelief was almost as relatable as it was hilarious. “That is the most idiotic and puerile thing I’ve ever heard of.”

“Come on, Little D,” Dick cajoled, “if you beat me, I’ll even let you lead our patrol route.”

Bruce shook his head, apparently not approving of patrol being used as a bribe, but he was boring, so who cared?

Jason was honestly impressed that Dick was willing to go that far just for the sake of an egg balance. It was neither surprising nor particularly respectable, but it was definitely impressive.

Damian obviously thought it was a good deal. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. “Swear it.”

“I swear on my honor and reputation, though they’re less than Robin’s,” Dick offered solemnly, holding his hand over his heart.

Damian’s lips twitched, but he nodded sternly. “I’m going to destroy you, Grayson.”

“You know,” Tim said suddenly, “I think we should probably stop incentivizing Damian’s violent behavior.”

“Says the primary incentivizer!” Jason protested.

“I don’t think that’s a word,” Cass pointed out.

Jason shrugged and continued berating Tim. “What did you even offer him anyway?”

“I’m not legally allowed to discuss that,” Tim said blandly.

“What, did you sign an NDA?”

“Yes,” Tim and Damian confirmed.

“No, you didn’t! I was there; there was no time out to sign one of Tim’s pointless legal documents.”

“You only think they’re pointless because they’re working,” Tim stated.

“We’ve signed an NDA the covers the range of the deals that we make,” Damian clarified.

“Why?” Dick asked, rightfully stunned and a little apprehensive.

“We’re not legally allowed to say,” Tim replied.

Cass was doing her best to stifle her laughter – it was probably the only thing she had ever failed at in her life.

Bruce looked torn between a strange amount of pride and pain – probably over Tim and Damian’s existences.  

Jason motioned to the people gathered in front of them. “Oh, look. We’re here. Finally.”

Jason had never thought he’d be glad to get to the next activity, especially considering it was an _egg balance_ , but he was so done with this conversation.

“All right!” Dick exclaimed, clapping his hands together. “Let’s all line up. Bruce, you want to join us? There are enough free spaces…!”

“They’re free for a reason,” Damian grumbled, looking at the activity site with crossed arms and a scowl.

“I think I’ll sit this one out,” Bruce intoned.

“Then you can record,” Tim said, holding his phone out to Bruce. “If I have to do this, then I’m determined to get footage that will embarrass Damian.”

“I’m not sure you understand how if-then sentences work,” Jason commented.

Not that he didn’t support Tim’s plans – of course he did – he just wasn’t sure why Tim couldn’t justify wanting embarrassing footage of Damian with a simple “I want video of Damian running around with a spoon and an egg because it’s going to be hilarious”.

Tim ignored him and pushed his phone further into Bruce’s space.

Bruce took the device gingerly. He didn’t even handle bombs that delicately. But, to be fair, Tim’s phone could probably be used as a WMD under the right circumstances, so the caution was warranted.

“Guys, come one,” Dick called, waving for them to join him. “Grab your spoons; we’re about to start!”

Jason exchanged a commiserating look with Tim before lining up next the others, both of whom had already joined Dick.

Cass was smiling and bouncing on the balls of her feet. The last time he had seen her do that, she’d tackled Dick and put him an epic triangle arm bar; watching the two of them spar was always so rewarding.

Damian looked… focused. Which was too mild a word for how determined he looked to win. Jason wasn’t sure if it would be a wonderful or horrible thing for Damian to lead patrol.

Jason crouched down and picked up the spoon lying in the grass before shooting another look at Tim, who was staring down at his tub of eggs, resigned.

Jason cracked a grin. s“Is this not the best thing that’s ever happened to you?”

Tim hummed, still staring into his tub. “I’m trying to decide if it’s worth losing my shoes to smash all of these eggs and get disqualified.”

Jason smirked, but stopped himself before he encouraged Tim to go for it.

( _Wait a minute. This is a great opportunity.)_

Jason had just had a brilliant idea: he was going to smash these eggs in Tim’s face.

Why?

Jason didn’t have a _concrete_ reason, but Tim had been doing annoying crap throughout the day, so he definitely deserved it for something – like writing traumatizing messages on his face.

This was going to be amazing.

It would even be worth hearing Tim complain about his suit.

_Again._

Jason stood with a grin, wondering why he kept giving Dick such a hard time when this day was turning out to be so awesome.

Well, he wasn’t actually wondering. Giving Dick a hard time was hilarious. But, after all this was over, he might just congratulate Dick on accidentally stumbling on the greatest comedy goldmine of their generation – not counting the whole Christmas debacle of course.

Christmas was in a league of its own.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tim asked, narrowing his eyes and leaning away slightly.

Kid had good instincts.

“Like what?”

“Like you’ve just come up with an idea that you _think_ is good, but will prove to be very, very bad in real life.”

Wow. If it weren’t for the fact that Tim was actually completely wrong and this was an amazing idea that would be as glorious in real life as in his head, Jason would commend Tim for his expression interpreting skills.

Jason smirked and shook his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jason.”

The word wasn’t so much Tim warning him as it was Tim signaling he understood he couldn’t stop what was happening, but that that wouldn’t prevent him from fighting Jason every step of the way.

See?

That right there – that graceful acceptance and useless fighting spirit – was exactly why he enjoyed working with Tim so much.

“All right, contestants, grab your eggs and get ready! On your mark-“

Jason saw Damian settle into a crouch, egg already balanced on his spoon. Dick was laughing, copying Damian’s crouch. Cass was hopping up and down, her egg eerily still in spite of her movement.

“Get set-“

Jason grabbed an egg and tossed it up and down casually, smirking at Tim; Tim stared back, lips pursed, eyebrow cocked.

“GO!”

All around them, other participants sprung into motion. Cass wasn’t even pretending to be normal, running at near-full speed without making a sound – she was definitely going to win. Damian and Dick were head to head; it would be interesting to see how that turned out.

Still, none of that was important, was it?

No, it wasn’t.

Because Tim had started walking. It was slow going – his shoulders were in tight line and his steps were mechanical. He was obviously worried about what Jason was going to do.

Smart, smart kid.

Jason hefted his egg slightly before pitching it straight at the back of Tim’s head.

Tim gave a full-bodied shudder as the yolk dripped down his neck into his collar. He stood there, in the middle of the field, completely frozen.

Jason smiled at the back of Tim’s head, waving at Cass as she made her way back to her bucket of eggs. She didn’t even stop to look at him.

He didn’t really care; he was too busy waiting to see what Tim was going to do.

Jason jumped a little in excitement when Tim turned around.

“Jason-“

Tim’s head jerked back when the egg Jason had thrown at him splattered across his face.

Jason cocked his head and laughed. “Okay there, Tim?”

Tim nodded slowly, tension bleeding out of his frame as he started walking towards Jason.

Apparently, whatever tension Tim had just lost had decided to flee into Jason’s body. Jason reared back as Tim approached him. Tim looked _way too_ calm. Calm Tim was not good for Jason’s health.

Yelling Tim was good for Jason’s health.

Jason couldn’t handle calm Tim.

It freaked him out, okay!

“Look, Tim, I think we can talk this out.”

Tim nodded again, stepping into Jason’s personal space.

_(Whhhhhhyyyyyyy…)_

“You’re right, Jason,” he said, setting his hand on Jason’s shoulder.

Jason’s eyes snapped to Tim’s hand.

It was on his shoulder?

Why was it there?

No.

It needed to be somewhere else. Maybe flying over Angola with the rest of Tim’s bo-

Jason blinked in surprise.

There was an egg on his face.

 _Tim_ had smashed an egg into his face.

Jason gaped at Tim.

Tim smiled back.

“You just broke an egg in my face!” Jason threw his hands up in the air, stunned.

Tim cocked an eyebrow. “What exactly did you expect to happen?”

Well, not this! He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to account for Tim’s general “I will scratch your eyes out and make you choke on them” attitude.

“I hate working with you.”

Tim’s eyebrow twitched and he snatched up another egg and hurled it at Jason’s chest.

Jason snorted. Did Tim really think he was going to get mad because his _shirt_ had egg on it?

“I’m not you, Tim. I can just throw my clothes in the washing machine!”

Jason launched forward and wrapped his arm around Tim, pulling him closer.

“Jason! Jason, get off of me!”

“No! You threw an egg at me!”

“You did it first!”

Tim acted like that really mattered.

Jason held Tim tighter, which was actually kind of difficult, but Jason was like,100 pounds heavier than Tim, so he managed. He grabbed two eggs in his free hand and crushed both of them onto Tim’s face.

“Ha! Take that!” Jason grinned, wiping the excess yolk covering his hand onto Tim’s suit.

“I hope you die.”

“Careful there, you’re starting to sound like Damian.”

Actually, speaking of Damian…

Jason looked up to see who was winning, only to find Damian, Dick, Cass, _and_ Bruce staring at him.

Well, everyone was staring, but whatever.

“Hey,” Jason said, nodding at them. “You still recording on that thing?” Jason motioned to Tim’s phone, which Bruce was still holding up.

Bruce looked sort of constipated, but he nodded, so Jason was satisfied.

Or, he would have been, except Tim decided he was tired of being held and proceeded to elbow Jason in the freaking kidney!

“Ow!”

Tim was, frankly, unsympathetic, which he proved by smashing an egg on top of Jason’s head.

Jason barked a laugh, but, funnily enough, he wasn’t amused. He reached for another egg only to have Tim smack his hand.

“Seriously?”

“Yes. I’m done. One more egg, Jason. Throw another egg at me. Go ahead. _I dare you._ ”

Well, how could Jason pass up a dare like that?

He couldn’t, but it looked like he was going to have to because Damian had just walked up and stolen the tub of eggs.

Jason shot him a disbelieving look. “You don’t want me to smash more eggs in Tim’s face? You’re getting soft, Damian; I’m disappointed.”

“You’re embarrassing me,” Damian stated.

“Oh, well, sorry.”

“You should be.”

“Are you okay, Tim?”

Jason looked away from Damian to stare at Dick because really? “You’re asking him if he’s okay? Who just got elbowed here?”

Dick shrugged. “You got egg on his suit, Jason.”

“Thank you, Dick,” Tim said. “Bruce, you can delete that video.”

A part of Jason wanted to protest. But, frankly… yeah, no, he definitely wanted that deleted. Nobody needed to see Tim elbowing him.

But, apparently – unsurprisingly – Tim and Jason were the only ones who wanted the video deleted, because Cass took it upon herself to steal the phone from Bruce and then high-five Dick.

“I’m sending this to us,” she said.

“Nice, Cass!”

“Seriously, Dick?”

Dick just grinned back at him. “Look on the bright-side, Jaybird: the egg yolk is sort of smearing the words on your forehead away. I can barely read them!”

“Oh, well, in that case,” Jason drawled.

Bruce shook his head and sighed. “How did this happen?”

“The only thing Jason knows how to do is instigate things,” Tim replied.

Okay, _that_ wasn’t an answer. It was also patently untrue.

“That’s a lie.”

“That’s the truth,” Damian countered.

“Oh, so you’re on Tim’s side now? Again?”

“Of course not. I’m just not on _your_ side.”

Jason nodded. That was fair.

“Okay, well, what did Tim do?” Dick asked.

“Oh, we’re victim-blaming now? I didn’t _do_ anything.”

“He’s right.” Jason nodded, trying to wipe some of the egg off of his face; it didn’t work because there was also egg on his hands. “There was Tim, there were eggs. It was just too good an opportunity to pass up.”

Tim cocked an eyebrow. “Really? And did you think this through?”

Jason did think it through. Sort of. Not really.

He had a lot of fun throwing those first two eggs at Tim, but he’d sort of counted on Tim using human shields. Having egg running down his chest was not the highlight of his day.

“Okay, you’re good at interpreting expressions! Is that what you want to hear, Tim? Is that it? Is that what’s going to make you happy?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s because you’re never happy.”

“Tim’s happy sometimes,” Dick said. “Mostly when we aren’t bothering him, I think.”

“Dick understands. Why don’t you understand, Jason?”

“I understand. I just don’t care.”

“Damian, give me the eggs.”

Jason turned to Damian, who looked like he was seriously considering Tim’s request.

Thankfully, Damian shook his head and moved to stand next to Dick, keeping the eggs out of Tim’s reach. “As I said, you’re embarrassing me.”

Tim pursed his lips and looked at Jason. “You’re paying for my suit.”

“Ha, yeah, no, I’m not.”

Tim sighed and ran his hand through his hair. Jason had to stifle a laugh when Tim shuddered as he realized he was running egg through his hair.

“Isn’t that, like, a $50 hair cut?” Dick asked, actually starting to look worried.

Yeah, Tim was probably on the verge of becoming very much not-sane right now. But that was fine. Jason had been down that road before, and it really wasn’t as bad as people made it out to be.

“I’m going back inside to clean up.”

“That’s a good idea,” Bruce said.

Cass held up Tim’s phone. “I’ll keep this for you.”

“Great.”

“Want some company?” Jason asked, smirking.

“Die, Jason.”

Jason snorted and arched an eyebrow at Damian. “Did you infect him with something?”

“Common sense, hopefully.”

Jason rolled his eyes and aborted a motion to scratch at the back of his neck. Egg. Right. “I actually do need to get this off of me. Think Tim’ll kill me if I follow him?”

“He hasn’t killed you yet,” Cass said.

“We’ll be here when you get back,” Dick offered, grinning.

Jason stared at him. “Yeah, then I probably won’t come back.”

“Good riddance. And keep Drake with you.”

Jason pulled a face at Damian before turning around to start after Tim. He pulled another face and wiped his hands on his already ruined shirt.

Yeah.

Next time, he was definitely going to work on his idea execution. 


	5. The Obstacle Course

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. 
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world. 
> 
> Note: This is the final chapter of Family Day and the last installment of Grade School. Ever.  
> I’ve really enjoyed writing these stories, and it’ll be hard to let this go, but this is how I planned to end it from the moment I started the series.  
> I hope you guys enjoyed reading Grade School as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Dick stared at Tim and Jason as they walked up to the group.

They were both completely soaked. Though, to be fair, where Tim looked like a drowned cat, Jason looked like he’d gotten into a fight with Aquaman and lost. But without the sharks. 

He opened his mouth, but paused.

Did he _really_ want to get into this?

The correct answer was no. And, apparently, the others had come to the same conclusion because everyone was ignoring it.

“So, what next?” Cass asked.

Dick turned to her, grinning and pretending that he couldn’t see Jason and Tim pulling faces at each other out of the corner of his eye. “That’s a great question! How about-“

“I want to go home,” Tim said.

They all turned to him.

“Don’t be a spoilsport, Tim,” Jason mocked.

Tim looked at Jason. That was all. He was just looking at him.

Jason nodded. “On the other hand, Tim has the immune system of a goldfish and he could get a cold and die, so we should probably go home.”

Dick thought about protesting, but…  that was actually a good point.

“What do you know about the immune systems of goldfish, Todd?”

“Probably less than you because I don’t actually care.”

“Tt. Todd does make a good point, however. If Drake develops a cold, he’ll be useless for weeks – more so than usual.”

Tim heaved a sigh. “I’m so done with all of you.”

“What did I do?” Dick protested.

Tim shrugged. “I’m done with you by association. Can I have my phone back?”

Cass smiled and passed the phone back to him. “Are you going to be okay, Timmy?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s Jason you should be worried about.”

“What more do you want from me!?”

“$3000.”

“You have a problem! Bruce, this is your fault for making him this obsessive. He was probably always going to end up vaguely disturbed, but you made it worse.”

Bruce didn’t deny it, which was for the best, seeing as Jason was probably right.

“Okay, guys,” Dick said, attempting to steer the conversation… in any direction but the one it was going in. “How about we do one more thing and then we’ll go home?”

“How about we leave now?” Tim groused.

Damian sniffed and crossed his arms. “I have to agree with, Drake. There’s no point in spending any more time here than we already have. You’ve already sentenced me to spend hours a day here,” he shot a glare at Bruce, “but I shouldn’t be tortured any further.”

“But you’re having fun,” Cass said.

Dick laughed and clapped his hands together. “I knew you were having fun, Dami! Why didn’t you just say so?”

Damian glared at him, determined not to admit it, even if Cass had already told them. Dick just kept grinning.

“So, one more game, guys?”

Tim shot Dick a really, _really_ unfriendly look.

Dick winced slightly. “Or not.”

“Stop trying to intimidate Grayson, Drake. And stop letting it work, Grayson; it’s embarrassing.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “Your emotional constipation is giving me a headache.”

“Tim!” Dick protested.

Cass smiled and put both hands on Damian’s shoulders to stop him from attacking Tim.

“Wow!” Jason shouted. “That’s hilarious. And possibly the most hypocritical thing you’ve said all day, but I can’t be sure about the superlative.”

“Hula hoops. Mustard. Eggs. _Water._ I’m allowed to be hypocritical if I want to be.”

Jason cocked an eyebrow. “Do you know how to justify things? Like, at all?”

“I justify your existence constantly, so I think I’ve got some idea.”

“Woah! I came out to have a good time, and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

“Then you obviously don’t know what the meaning of the word ‘attacked’ is, Todd.”

Jason shook his head, face crinkling in confusion. “I think I know what ‘attacked’ means. I died! I know what it means to be attacked.”

“You’re always playing the death card,” Tim grumbled.

“It’s not a card! I _literally died._ ”

“We know,” Damian said, sighing with a vaguely judgmental expression on his face.

“Okay, now I’m genuinely feeling attacked. What is this?”

Dick shook his head, at a loss. “I have no idea.”

“This is your fault.”

Dick gaped at Jason. Seriously? “How is this my fault?”

“Everything is your fault,” Jason explained matter-of-factly. “Except when it’s Bruce’s fault.”

“Tt. You’re ridiculous, Todd.”

“You don’t get to say that!”

“Are we leaving yet?” Tim broke in, scowling slightly.

Dick stared at him plaintively. Tim’s expression remained unchanged.

“I mean, if you really want to,” Dick said.

“Good. Let’s go.”

“Tim!”

( _I didn’t actually mean it…)_

“Come on, Timmy,” Cass coaxed, walking over to him and wrapping her arm around him, wrinkling her nose slightly. “Just one more.”

Tim shot her a look that Dick thought was supposed to be betrayed but really only conveyed a lack of will to live.

“One more?” he intoned.

Dick nodded along with Cass. “Just one, and then we’ll go home, right, Bruce?”

Bruce nodded. “One more.”

“Finally,” Damian muttered, though it was less believable than before.

“This is ridiculous,” Jason muttered.

Dick walked over to Jason and bumped his shoulder lightly. “Oh, come on! This is super fun. It’ll be a shame to leave, right?”

“Do you know how uncomfortable wet clothes are?”

Tim scoffed.

Dick laughed slightly. “Less uncomfortable than wet spandex.”

Jason tried to suppress a grin, but Dick could see it fighting its way onto his face. “I only threw you into the water to protect you from the blast.”

“You were still on the docks and you were protected from the blast!”

“I’m sturdier than you are.”

Tim sighed, but it was a sigh full of derision and life, so Dick could only feel relieved. “Can we get this over with, please?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re no fun when you’re wet.”

“He’s never fun,” Damian said, smirking.

“What are we doing next?” Bruce interrupted before Tim could speak, which was good because Tim was getting his second wind if the scowl on his face was anything to go by.

“Hmm… Well, since this is our last event, we have to make sure it’s really good. Cass, come help me pick!”

She walked over to him, grinning. “Hmm… What about that?” she asked, pointing to one game.

Dick wrinkled his nose. He liked beanbag tosses, but it wasn’t the best they could do – also, Tim and Jason and maybe Damian would end up throwing the bags at each other. “Nah... Ooh! What about face painting?”

“I’ve had enough of people drawing on my face, thank you,” Jason said.

“That’s fair,” Dick conceded. “Hmm… Oh, this one!”

Cass grinned up at him. “I like that one.”

“Then we’re agreed! Okay, everyone, follow us!”

Dick linked his arm with Cass’s and began leading the way. The others followed shortly after.

“Where are we going?” Damian demanded.

“It’s a surprise!”

Jason snorted. “Stop trying to be mysterious.”

“What do you mean trying? I’m _being_ mysterious.”

“No, because you’re bad at it.”

Dick gasped and looked over his shoulder at Jason, letting out a huff at the grin on Jason’s lips.

“I’m not bad at it; mystery is sort of in the job description.”

“That doesn’t make you not horrible at it.”

Tim arched an eyebrow. “Double negatives? Really?”

“Are you- are you correcting my grammar? Really? Why are you correcting my grammar?” Jason cried, staring at Tim in disbelief.

“Why do I have to?”

“You don’t _have_ to, is the thing. You really don’t. You’re being pedantic and petty and I shouldn’t be surprised, except that I am.”

“Whose fault is that, exactly?”

Jason pursed his lips and looked at Damian. “Why don’t you talk to him and I’ll talk to Dick which is incrementally less torturous.”

“Hey!”

“Why on earth would I want to talk to him, Todd?”

“That’s a good point. Why would anyone want to talk to him?”

“Don’t get mad because some people have good taste and you don’t, Jason.”

“Good taste cost you an overpriced suit, so I’m thinking its overrated.”

Jason looked overly pleased with himself. Tim looked five seconds from… well, Dick wasn’t really sure, but it would be bad. And maybe violent.

Thankfully, Bruce intervened by stepping forward to walk between Jason and Tim. “Jason, stop antagonizing your brother.”

“You hate fun. If you were a villain, all you would do is stop people from having fun. It would be pathetic and sad.”

“Perhaps you’re referring to your own attempts at villainy, Todd; nothing Father could do would ever be pathetic _or_ sad.”

Jason scoffed. “Okay, one: that’s a flat out lie. Two: I wasn’t trying to be a villain. Three: if I were a villain, I would be great at it!”

“You _were_ kind of a villain, Jay,” Dick said, smiling a little wryly.

“You know what’s wrong with you? Your perspective is skewed. It’s why you think Damian is cute.”

“Damian’s adorable!”

Tim’s smirk appeared slowly. “So. Which one offends you more, Damian?”

A smile tugged at Dick’s lips as he saw the partly outraged, partly embarrassed, partly horrified expression on Damian’s face.

“I am _not_ cute.”

Dick gave a helpless laugh. “Sorry, Little D.”

He was pretty sure Damian could tell he didn’t mean it. Before Damian could call him on it, Cass spoke up.

He really loved her sense of timing.

She pointed ahead of them. “We’re here.”

Dick lit up, grinning and turning himself and Cass around to face the others. “Awesome! Are you guys ready… for the obstacle course?”

Their reactions were lackluster, but he’d learned not to expect anything else. When they actually started the activity, they’d get into it.

“ _That_ is not an obstacle course, Grayson.”

“Really? This is your last hurrah? I thought you were going to go out on a high-note, Dick. But you choose an obstacle course? And a lame one? Do you know what we do at night?”

“Again?” Cass laughed.

Tim looked disturbed. “Are they wearing blindfolds? Is this a team activity?”

“Yes!” Dick exclaimed. “The person without the blindfold directs tells their partner where to go to avoid the obstacles! That means we get to pair up – and _you_ get to participate again, Bruce.”

A look of mild constipation came over Bruce’s face, but Cass sidled up next to him and smiled, tugging at his jacket. He gave her a half-smile/half-grimace and nodded. “ _Great.”_

Jason snorted and crossed his arms. “You’re teaming up? Again? Would you do anything this stupid if one of us asked you? No. The answer is no. See if any of us look after you when you’re old.”

Damian scoffed. “As if he would want your assistance in his old age.” Damian turned to Bruce with a solemn look on his face. “I’ll look after you, Father.”

“Well, _that’s_ a comforting sentiment,” Tim said.

It would have been an unfair statement except Bruce didn’t look particularly relieved at the idea of Damian taking care of him.

Dick shrugged before sweeping his arms out, gesturing to the event. “All right, we’re going to have to wait for the people participating now to finish up, but it shouldn’t take too long.”

Damian snorted. “Please. A bunch of civilians running around blindfolded, stumbling through an ‘obstacle course’? We’re going to be here all day.”

Cass smiled. “Most of them are nearly finished, Dami.”

Damian sniffed and crossed his arms, but didn’t say anything else.

Dick grinned and wrapped an arm around his youngest brother’s shoulders. “Want to team up with me, Damian?”

Damian twisted his lips and sighed. “Fine.”

Dick’s grin only widened. He was adorable. “Awesome!”

“Um, no.”

Dick turned to Tim, confused. Why wouldn’t Tim want him and Damian to team up? “Do you want to work with Dami again, Tim?”

Please, no.

As much as he supported them working together and getting along, he was okay with not being zip-tied again.

Tim looked unimpressed. “No. If you team up with Damian, I have to team up with Jason. So… no. That’s not happening.”

Oh. That made sense.

Apparently, not to Jason.

“Excuse you! I’m a great partner; you’d be lucky to work with me.”

“You just started an egg fight with me.”

Jason waved away Tim’s concerns. “Huh. That reminds me: who won second place?”

Tim scowled. “What?”

“Damian was supposed to lead the patrol route if he won second. If that happened, I’m ditching you tonight to follow Dick and Damian around because it sounds hilarious.”

“No, Jason,” Bruce said, his forehead creasing.

Dick frowned, cocking his head. “You know, I don’t… remember. Dami?”

“We have to go back,” Damian said, expression going grave.

Yeah… Damian had been taking their competition _really_ seriously.

“If we go back there, I’ll be forced to take drastic action.”

Dick edged away from Tim slightly, pulling Damian with him. Tim’s version of drastic action tended to involve systematic sabotage and subsequent requisitioning. It was terrifying and bureaucratic and nothing that Dick wanted to be involved in. 

“I don’t think going back would help,” Cass pointed out like the angel she was. “They probably started a new round already.”

Damian let out a frustrated growl and jabbed his finger in Jason’s direction. “This is your fault for being so juvenile!”

Jason stuck his tongue out at Damian.

Damian raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, unimpressed. “If we’re being forced into this activity, I won’t work with Todd.”

Jason scoffed. “Well, you aren’t working with Tim because everyone here will probably end up dead if you guys partner up again.” Jason grinned and wrapped an arm around Tim’s shoulders, apparently giving up on self-preservation. “I guess that means we’ll be working together after all, Timmers.”

“I will nerve strike you.”

“That won’t change the fact that this is happening.”

“Why would you even want to work with him, Todd?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “You’re really losing your touch, Damian. Any opportunity to annoy Tim, right?”

Damian nodded grudgingly. “I can respect that, I suppose.”

Huh. Dick had never noticed that Tim had his own version of Bruce’s family-induced headache face. It was kind of creepy.

Cass smiled at Tim. “Don’t worry, Timmy; you’ll get Jay back.”

Jason gaped at her. “Oi! Why are you rooting for him?”

“Because you’re not going to pay him.”

“He’s going to pay me.”

Dick wasn’t sure if that was a threat or if Tim was just really, really deeply in denial.

Better not to think about it too much.

“All right, everyone! Grab your partners, grab your blindfolds, and line up! We’re about to start!”

Jason pulled Tim closer; Tim glared, but didn’t fight him. That was probably a bad sign.

“I think this is stupid, and I’m definitely _never_ paying you, but you had better not drag me down. You’re wearing the blindfold.”

Tim’s face screwed up; he was clearly preparing to argue that statement. Probably all of those statements. Maybe even the statement about this being stupid – not because he actually thought it wasn’t stupid, but because Jason had said it. Dick didn’t care; he would take what he could get.

But… he would take it from afar. Partly because he didn’t want to be drawn into their bickering. Mostly because the obstacle course was starting and there was no way he was missing it.

“Come on, Dami; let’s go.”

Damian sighed, but didn’t protest when Dick started leading them to the starting line. He snagged a blindfold on the way.

He winked at Cass when she stepped up next to him and tied her own blindfold on. She turned to face Bruce, who was standing behind her; she might as well not have had the blindfold on for how at ease she seemed.

“You’ll stand here and give me directions,” she reminded him.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do you really need them?”

She just smiled and linked her arm with Bruce’s – no direction required, imagine that – before turning back to the course.

Dick huffed a laugh and turned to Damian who was scowling at the obstacle course. “Okay, you ready to guide me, Dami?”

He turned the full force of his scowl on Dick, which was completely unwarranted.

“You’ll be guiding me, Grayson.”

( _What?_ )

Dick gaped at Damian. Damian stared back at him unblinkingly.

“Are we ditching the obstacle course for a staring contest? Because that’s lame, even for you, Dick.”

Dick turned to Jason, frowning slightly. “Why do you keep saying I’m lame?”

“Obvious reasons. What are you guys even doing?”

Damian scoffed and crossed his arms. “I’m waiting for Grayson to give me the blindfold.”

Tim and Jason wore matching incredulous looks.

_(Exactly!)_

“You want to run the obstacle course. Blindfolded. This is something you want to do. You.”

Damian rolled his eyes. Hard. “That’s what I just said, Drake. Don’t tell me you’re going deaf; you’re barely surviving with all of your senses debatably intact.”

Tim pursed his lips. “Why?”

Damian smirked. “I thought about what Todd said and came to the once-in-a-lifetime conclusion that he was right: I’m losing my touch. But I think beating you in this obstacle course will be a good place to start my recommitment to the cause.”

Dick shouldn’t have been relieved at that, but he was. It was just such a Damian thing for Damian to do that he felt reassured that all was right in the world.

Jason snickered. “Nice, Babybat. Nice.”

Tim was shooting Dick a look that could have been “kill me now” or “help me kill them now”.

Dick gave Tim a half-hearted thumbs-up. Tim made a disturbing sound in the back of his throat and ripped the blindfold out of Jason’s hand.

“There are five slots. All five teams have lined up. I want to get this over with; why haven’t we started yet?”

Jason snorted, a smile still tugging at his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe because you’re glaring at the guy who’s supposed to be running this thing and he looks like he’s about to pee his pants?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Jason. I just started glaring at him; that can’t be the reason he hasn’t started yet.”

Jason threw his hands up in the air, but looked more amused than anything. “Are you hearing this, Cass? He’s insane; why did you make me pair with him?”

She shrugged, unrepentant, but Dick sort of saw Jason’s point.

The poor guy really did look terrified. Tim _could_ be pretty menacing when he put his mind to it.

Dick shot _two_ half-hearted thumbs-up and the event officiator, which made one whole-hearted thumbs-up.

The man looked away and blew his whistle shakily. “All right, let’s get started everyone.”

Dick wasn’t sure if he had helped or made things worse.

“On three: one, two, three, go!”

Dick jolted, a little bit surprised, but Damian had already taken off, blindfold covering his eyes, even though Dick didn’t even remember giving it to him. Cass was right behind him – or, in front of him, actually.

Neither Dick nor Bruce had spoken a word.

“I don’t think they need our help,” Dick muttered, disappointed.

Bruce patted his shoulder awkwardly, but he obviously didn’t care about not being able to fully participate in the obstacle course experience.

Dick was really, _really_ disappointed.

“Crap, Tim! Hurry up and put the blindfold on – I told you not to hold me back!”

Dick turned to Jason and Tim, not really surprised at the fact that Tim was taking his time. He _was_ surprised that Jason hadn’t expected as much – Tim could be horrifyingly passive-aggressive.

“All right. Where do I go?”

Jason stared at the back of Tim’s head, flexing his jaw. “Forward!”

“I know that, Jason. How many steps to the first obstacle?”

“Wha- were you not paying attention when you had your blindfold off?”

“Of course, I was. But I’m not _Damian._ Or Cass for that matter.”

Dick shot a forlorn look down the course. Both Cass and Damian were already halfway done.

“This is a team activity and if I have to do this, so do you; I’m not going to carry you, Jason. Do your part: how many steps?”

Dick should have made Tim his partner.

Jason threw his head back and groaned. “Fine! Take 15 steps, Tim!”

Tim sighed liked Jason was the one giving him a hard time. “What sort of steps, Jason?”

“What sort of- Steps, Tim! They’re steps; 15 of them!”

“Really? That’s what you’re going with? What size are they? Are they large steps? Small steps? Damian sized steps?”

Damian wasn’t even here and Tim was insulting his size. Dick didn’t know if he should be impressed or saddened by Tim’s consistency.

Jason didn’t care one way or another. “You know what? _You know what?”_ Jason stomped up to Tim and tore the blindfold off of him before wrapping it around his own eyes. “Now what, Tim? How many steps, Tim? _How many steps?”_

Tim started smiling, like this was going exactly how he wanted it to.

Dick should probably warn Jason.

“Keep walking until I tell you to stop.”

Jason laughed in a way that was less amused and more “don’t think I won’t get you back for this”. But he started walking anyway.

“What is this?”

Dick turned around to see Damian staring at Jason with an outraged expression. “You finished already?” Dick asked, face falling.

Damian ignored his distress like a pro. “The only reason I ran this obscenely easy course was to humiliate Drake; what is Todd doing?”

Dick sighed and rested a hand on Damian’s shoulder. “Good job finishing the race.”

Damian snorted and crossed his arms, glaring at Tim.

Tim was too busy “guiding” Jason to care. “Keep going.”

“I’m going! Have I stopped walking yet?”

“A little further.”

“I’m still walking!”

“A little more.”

Jason resorted to grumbling under his breath.

Dick cocked his head, brow furrowing. “Uh…”

“OW!”

Damian snorted and smirked. Apparently not humiliating Tim was okay as long as Jason faced some sort of physical abuse – even if that abuse was whacking his shin on a step stool.

Jason whirled around to face Tim, in spite of the fact that he couldn’t see him. “Tim!”

“Oops. Sorry.”

“You’re not even pretending to be sorry! And here I am – I’m trusting you, Tim!”

Tim cocked an eyebrow. “Why are you trying to make me responsible for your bad decisions?”

Dick smiled a bit distractedly when Cass came up to him and leaned against his shoulder.

“Have fun?”

“Yeah. It was good.”

Bruce came around on his other side, wearing his patented look of exasperation.  “This isn’t going to end well.”

That was a good prediction.

“I’m trusting you, Tim!” Jason repeated. “You get one more shot!” Jason cracked his neck and turned back to the course. “All right. What next?”

“Why is he trying again?” Cass murmured.

“Todd never learns.”

Dick had to agree. The absolute glee on Tim’s face was enough to tell them that Tim had no intention of honoring the trust Jason was putting in him. Common sense should have been enough to let Jason know that.

Sometimes, Dick was sure Jason _liked_ when Tim messed with him.

“Take two steps to the left, two steps forward, two steps to the right, and... 8 steps forward. Then you’ll reach the traffic cones.”

“What sized steps?” Jason sniped.

“Jason-sized steps.”

Jason groaned, but followed Tim’s instructions. “You’re ridiculous. You know that right? I don’t know why I put up with you. I don’t know _how._ I don’t know how anyone-“

Dick slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laugh. Neither Damian nor Cass put in that much effort. Bruce was sighing, but Dick thought it sounded a little, tiny bit amused.

And, frankly, it was impossible _not_ to be amused while watching Jason sink calf-deep into a mud puddle because he was trusting Tim not to lead him astray.

Dick stopped trying to hide his laughter, because Jason had brought this on himself.

“Tim.” Jason sounded surprisingly calm for… well, Jason.

“Jason.”

“Why am I covered in mud.”

“I’m supposed to be helping you avoid obstacles, Jason. The mud wasn’t an obstacle.”

Jason nodded, and then he was snatching off his blindfold, bending down, scooping up a handful of mud, and striding steadily towards Tim, completely disregarding the mud covering his left leg.

Tim’s smug smirk dropped so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t get emotional whiplash.

“Jason. No.”

“Take your punishment like a man, Tim.”

Damian looked like Christmas had come early. Or, not Christmas, but some holiday without all of the traumatic memories tied to it.

Dick had never seen Tim more horrified.

“Jason, if that gets on my suit-“

“Suit, schmuit. This mud is going on your face. Stand there, and take it.”

“‘Schmuit’,” Cass repeated, looking vaguely bemused but mostly like she was really enjoying herself.

Tim… Tim looked like he was very much _not_ enjoying himself. Jason was getting closer, and Tim started shaking his head. He turned slightly, backing away from Jason and approaching them.

“Think about this, Jason.”

“Thought about it. Decided. Stop moving; they can’t save you.”

Jason drew his arm back.

Tim froze for a split second. Then he ducked behind Bruce just as Jason launched his attack.

_Splat!_

Bruce’s head snapped back – whether it was because of the impact or the shock of having the bottom half of his face covered in mud, Dick didn’t know.

The ensuing silence was… oppressive.

Even Jason was frozen, mouth hanging open at the sight of Bruce. Covered in mud.

Wow.

Dick was having a lot of trouble processing.

Wow.

He coughed faintly and offered Bruce a smile that might have came off more tortured than reassuring. “At least your mouth was closed…”

Bruce looked at him out of the corner of his eyes, arching an eyebrow.

Dick laughed weakly.

Bruce snorted, smirking slightly.

Dick’s eyes widened.

“That was a laugh, wasn’t it?” Jason asked flatly, arm finally falling to his side as he stared at Bruce.

Dick clapped his hands, ecstatic. “It was! I knew you were having fun! I knew it!”

Granted, it was kind of weird that the first time Bruce had showed it was after getting covered with mud, but… well, they didn’t really do normal, did they?

Bruce rolled his eyes before dragging his hand down his face and flinging the excess mud onto the ground. “Right. I’m having fun.”

He sounded sarcastic, but he had to be telling at least 60% of the truth.

He’d _laughed._

Well, snorted, but that basically like a laugh in context!

Cass started giggling, which quickly turned into breathless laughter as she leaned over to pat Bruce’s shoulder. “Poor… ha… Poor Bruce.”

Bruce sighed but offered her a wry smile.

“You’re smiling!” Dick pointed at him. “You’re having fun! Ha! This is great!”

The only ones who seemed to agree with him were Cass and Bruce – well, that was debatable, but Dick was going to look on the bright side because _smiling_.

Damian looked horrified, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. He didn’t manage to get any words out. Dick understood – if there were any time to be speechless, it was now.

Jason had his arms crossed, unconcerned with getting the mud from his hand onto other parts of his body. “I feel… unclean.”

Dick hummed. “Is it the mud?”

Jason flapped his arms haphazardly. “No. Bruce laughed. Like an actual person! There was no reason for that and he knows it; he just hates me!”

Dick exchanged a look with Bruce, for once fully empathizing with his exasperation – though he was a little amused too.

It was just so _Jason._

“It’s not natural. Unclean,” Jason repeated. “Hey, Tim, you got any holy water next to your shark repellent?”

For the first time since Jason had launched his attack, Tim popped up from behind Bruce. “Go to hell, Jason.”

Well, that was hostile. Tim was taking the whole mud thing personally.

Jason scoffed and crossed his arms, unfazed by Tim’s glare. “Been there, done that, why do you think I need the holy water?”

Tim’s glare was unfaltering. 

“You’re a disgrace, Todd!” Damian snarled.

Jason smirked. “Oh, look, he’s talking again. It was nice while it lasted.”

Dick smiled. “It was, wasn’t it?”

5 sets of eyes were all looking at him in disbelief.

Oh, right. Context.

“Not Dami not talking! I mean… this. Having fun and spending time together as a family. It was nice. Right?”

Tim’s expression flattened and stepped out from behind Bruce. “I’m going to have so much media to suppress.”

Jason snorted. “Fascist.”

Tim sneered. “If that’s what you want to call me for being the person who keeps us from being investigated by the FBI and Homeland Security, fine.”

Bruce heaved a sigh. “Tim.”

Cass cocked her head. “I didn’t think today was that bad.”

“Does the government even have jurisdiction in Gotham?” Dick questioned.

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” Jason scoffed. “Of course, they don’t.”

That was fair, actually.

“All right,” Bruce said, walking away from the obstacle course. “Let’s go home.”

“Finally,” Tim grumbled, following after Bruce.

“Wait!” Dick called. “Come on, guys. We had fun, didn’t we?”

“Tt. You have a strange idea of ‘fun’, Grayson.” Damian rolled his eyes and started after Tim, shooting a sneer at Jason on the way.

Jason shrugged. “Eh. It was all right.”

Dick slumped as he watched all of them walk away. “‘All right’?”

Cass came up to him, wrapping an arm around him. “I had fun, Dick. They all did, too. Even Timmy a little bit.”

He grinned at her. She was the best. “Thanks, Cass. Especially for admitting it!”

Jason waved a dismissive hand in the air, not even bothering to look back. “I don’t owe you anything!”

Dick sighed and gave Cass a wry smile.

She leaned her head on his shoulder and grinned back.

( _Today was a good day.)_


End file.
